The silence in the meadow was unnatural. It was the quiet of seventeen apocalypses holding their breath, pacified by bubbles of light. Luna slept, her small chest rising and falling in a quick, exhausted rhythm against Seraphina's shoulder. The glowing orbs she had created pulsed gently, casting shifting patterns on the faces of the assembled cosmic delegates.
The Geode, now a stable, dark rock with a cool, inner glow, stood as a testament to what was possible. But it was just one. Sixteen other catastrophes waited in the buffer zone Damon had strained to create. The air still tasted of ozone and foreign physics.
Kaelon paced, a caged star. "This is a temporary fix. A child's trick. The moment her power wanes, or her concentration breaks…" He didn't finish. He didn't need to. The memory-ghost was already starting to slowly orbit its orb, as if studying the nature of its prison.
