The expedition team pushed forward through the Reset's shifting ground. Twenty members strong now—Soren's specialists in their marked gear, hybrids from the territory with their scar-tissue grafts, and a handful of echoes that flickered in and out like bad signals.
They followed the strongest new ping on the scar compasses. The devices spun wildly as the land changed under their boots.
First came the floating crystal islands, chunks of ground hanging in mid-air with no visible support. The team roped themselves together. One slip meant a long drop. Soren called out adjustments while his people tested each landing with poles.
An echo named Flick darted ahead, sliding across gaps and yelling back safe paths. Kael stuck close to the younger hybrids, keeping them steady when the islands tilted.
