Chapter 144: Fractured Lines
The victory at the Tending Glade was a hollow, trembling thing. As dawn bled cold light into the valley, the extent of the damage was laid bare. The Resonant Lens was a ruin, its careful geometric lines snapped, its crystals dull and dark. The Glade itself was scarred with the brutal, non-organic fractures of Kethran mining and the blackened circles where null-pylons had been rooted. The silver Library Tree stood like a amputee, its lost leaves a silver carpet on the scorched earth.
Worst of all was the silence. Not the peaceful quiet of contemplation, but a strained, watchful hush. Echo-Ven's consciousness was present, but it was coiled tight, a psychic wound throbbing in the mountain's heart. The gentle, sub-audible hum of potential was gone, replaced by a low, pained tremor.
