Sylas continued upward until the sky stopped allowing him to rise, not with anything his hands could touch, but through an invisible curvature of Will that turned the last stretch above his head into an impossible distance.
His emerald crystal wings drove against it once, then again, and each attempt only made the pressure more obvious until Sylas could finally feel the shape of the thing holding him beneath it: a vast dome stretched from horizon to horizon, sealed over the world as though the tribulation had decided there would be no escaping upward.
