The black spire rose without seam or joint.
Up close the surface looked less like stone or metal and more like something that had been poured into shape and then frozen in the moment before it could settle. The liquid light of the suspended ocean lapped against its base without wetting it. The resonance inside my chest and arms had grown so strong that every breath felt matched to a deeper rhythm coming from the structure itself.
Elizabeth stood at my right, Vale at my left. The rest of the core formed a tight arc behind us. No one spoke. Isolde's living vessel held position a short distance away, a single point of green and pale coral against the endless pale gold of the ocean.
I stepped forward and placed my right hand flat against the black surface.
