The morning sun in the Forest of Lamentation never truly resembled the sun of Jakarta. Its rays had to pierce through layers of thick, toxic mist and the canopy of giant, ancient trees that shielded Sector Zero from the world above. The result was a hauntingly beautiful spectrum of indigo and pale green light that danced across the crystalline walls of Castle Zero, casting long, geometric shadows over its obsidian corridors.
Dayat stood on a vast, sweeping balcony that Dola had formally designated as The Terrace of Equilibrium. His hands rested on the black metallic railing, which felt cold to the touch but was polished to a mirror-like smoothness. He took a long, deep breath, inhaling air that had been scrubbed clean and purified by the castle's internal Orchid-Ether filtration system. There was no smell of charred flesh here, no distant screams of the dying, and none of the metallic stench of blood that had haunted his dreams for the past few nights.
