The descent passage opened at eleven-fifty in the Administrative Substructure.
Orvyn placed his palm against the stone the way he always did. The wall reorganized — molecules adjusting, the corridor accepting our request — and the route opened. Veylan flanked. The descent team formed up.
Six of us this time, not five. I took the lead. Mira walked beside me, the Abyssal bridge's quiet hum already settling against my Void in the shared rhythm we'd built since the championship. Seraphina, golden and steady. Elara, whose hair this morning had bloomed white blossoms that had stayed steady all the way to the substructure — the Wildgrove signal that her bloodline was content with the day's intent. Draven, ice already feathering the inside of his greaves in the way it did when his Frostborn began structural pre-alignment.
And Valeria.
