Zephyr did not perceive the Sovereign Imperium as a map of mountains, rivers, and cities. He perceived it as a massive, continental-scale engine of faith.
He observed the grid from the dead center of the Eternal Forge. Swirling crimson and gold aether spun around him in a tight, controlled orbit, feeding directly into his cognitive processors. To a mortal mind, the sheer scale of the incoming data—billions of micro-transactions of faith, millions of kinetic variables—would trigger an immediate catastrophic stroke. Zephyr processed it effortlessly. He watched the world spin with the frictionless efficiency of a perfectly aligned machine.
The western border was a solid, impenetrable block of golden light. The defensive wards along the Ashwall hummed with perfect resonance, consuming eighteen million Faith Points per day to maintain absolute structural integrity against the Korthane Hegemony.
