The sky-palace drifted north from Storm Valley, its massive shadow sliding over broken ridges. In the central vault, engineers and ritualists worked under harsh lantern light.
The Golden Womb core sat in a newly forged cradle of black iron and silver channels. Thick cables ran from it into the palace's main arteries. Every pulse sent warm golden light racing through the lines.
Aiden stood on the observation platform above the vault, arms crossed. The core's rhythm matched his own heartbeat now.
Each beat pushed stabilizing energy outward. Below, floating platforms that had listed for months straightened and expanded by several meters.
Cracks in the lower decks sealed themselves with faint golden seams. Wounded soldiers who had been carried aboard from the valley fights stood up one by one.
Bandages fell away as new skin closed over gashes. Their eyes sharpened. Old bloodline marks on their arms glowed brighter.
