Chapter 104: The Custodians Dilemma
The Veil of Lys was not a wall. As they sailed closer, its nature revealed itself: a towering, silent cataract of solidified light, shimmering with soft rainbow hues at its edges and deepening to a profound, singing blue at its heart. It hummed, a chord so deep and complex it was felt in the teeth and bones rather than heard. It was beautiful, immense, and radiated an aura of such ancient, deliberate order that the chaotic, snarling mutter from their sample stone felt like a blasphemy.
The skiff slowed, caught in a calm, windless zone before the Veil. The air smelled of ozone and something else ozone and old paper, and the clean, cold scent of deep, still water. The singing stones from Lys were now vibrating violently, a high, frantic whine that spoke of alarm systems triggered.
