Year five of imprisonment. The cell had become less prison and more office.
"Translation needed."
The guard brought another stack of documents. Interdimensional refugees had been arriving weekly, each speaking languages that required careful interpretation.
Nox had become fluent in twelve forms of communication, including three that didn't use sound. The demons had discovered his talent for pattern recognition extended beyond negotiation.
"What language this time?"
"Crystal harmonics. The refugees claim to be from something called the Resonance Collective."
"Survivors from the Crystal Dominion's war?"
"Unknown. But they're requesting asylum."
The documents were actually crystalline matrices that conveyed meaning through light refraction. Nox had learned to read them through trial and error.
"They're not requesting asylum. They're warning us."
"About what?"
"Something they call the Convergence. Multiple dimensional barriers weakening simultaneously."
"Meaning?"
