Outside the Obsidian Tower, space began to behave like something that could be gripped.
Lucien felt it even through the layers of the obsidian walls. The hull did not merely accelerate. It reoriented. The void ahead compressed while the void behind loosened as if an unseen hand were kneading distance into a thinner and thinner sheet.
Kharzun... was pulling.
Every few breaths, the tower lurched through a clean discontinuity. There was no crash of impact. Just a momentary, stomach-deep wrongness as the universe rewrote the tower's "next location" like a line being corrected mid-sentence.
Space leap after space leap.
Lucien sat in the center of the inner chamber. His blood-red eyes were half-lidded and he let his senses ride the distortions.
Kharzun was not teleporting the tower in the crude sense. He was laying a path.
