The light in the Grand Duke's map chamber had changed since Arthur's last visit. It no longer flickered with the warmth of study, but with something quieter, colder. Pale reflections danced along the floor from the glowing veins of the mana-map, etched into a slab of glassy obsidian the size of a dining table. Beneath its surface, Glaucus moved, not in real time, but in ghostly memory. Like the world dreaming of itself.
Arthur stood alone for a while, his fingertips hovering above the eastern quadrant. Nothing had shifted much over the past few days. Cities pulsed faintly. Trade routes blinked where mana surged. Storms whispered in tight curls of blue static. But one detail kept drawing him back.
A shimmer.
Not like the others. Not bright. Not urgent. Just... wrong.
