The first step did not kill her.
Rhaen put her boot down on the nearest sigil line and waited for the world to decide what it thought of her.
The etched grooves under her sole hummed faintly. Mana slid along them like thin streams of light, changing course around her weight. For a heartbeat she felt something push up through the leather, a pressure that was not quite physical. It tasted her balance, the way she carried herself.
Nothing cracked. Nothing exploded.
Good start.
She let a slow breath out through her nose.
The second step was worse.
She shifted her weight forward, keeping her other boot on plain stone, and the lines around her changed. A faint ripple of light ran out from her heel, down one curve, then split at a junction. The air in front of her flickered.
For half a blink, the room stretched.
