The world narrowed to the pulse of blue-black light and the gritty crunch of debris underfoot, a sound swallowed by Dori's Conceal. They were ghosts in a graveyard of ambition, moving through the stunned, ragged remnants of the three factions.
A wounded Ironblood mercenary, clutching a cauterized stump, stared right through them, his eyes glazed with shock. A Tech-Savant, her instruments dark, huddled behind a shattered sled, flinching as Julian's team passed within feet of her. To them, the air just shimmered with a heat-haze distortion before the anomaly.
Zoe, at the forefront, was a phantom in truth. Her form seemed to flicker, her connection to the beast within heightening her senses to a painful degree. She didn't just see the anomaly; she tasted it.
