The broken march continued across the blood-tinged wasteland, its rhythm creating harmonies that seemed to resonate through dimensions beyond normal perception. The shadow-fragments that followed Selena moved with increasing coordination, their processed consciousness responding to the cosmic authority that flowed through her transformed being while serving purposes that extended far beyond their individual comprehension or desire for liberation from bureaucratic oversight.
The ash wings that adorned her back had settled into a pattern of movement that created ripples through reality itself, each beat revealing pathways through territories that had been sealed against administrative recognition. The pain of their integration had evolved into something more complex—not merely the burning sensation of foreign power being grafted onto her essential nature, but the deeper ache of consciousness being systematically prepared for purposes that transcended individual will or understanding.
