Entering the mind of a machine god was not like stepping into a room. It was like being disassembled.
One moment, Arden was kneeling on the cold metal floor of The Foundry. The next, she was... data.
There was no up or down. Only streams of blue binary code falling like rain in a void of infinite black. The sound of ticking was everywhere a deafening, rhythmic thud that felt like a hammer hitting a steel plate.
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK.
"Amara?" Arden called out.
Her voice didn't make a sound. Instead, it appeared as a text box floating in the void: [USER: ARDEN VALE // STATUS: INTRUDER]
"Great," Arden thought. "I'm a popup ad."
She looked at her hands. They were wireframe models, glowing white. Her right arm the ghost arm was different. It was a jagged tear in the code, a mass of violet static that hissed and spat corruption.
"The compass," Arden reminded herself. "Follow the anomaly."
