The sky above the shattered limestone terraces of the Floating Palace was no longer a horizontal chasm of platinum fire. It had broken completely. The deep geocentric engine beneath the marble foundations groaned, a low, tectonic rattle that caused the mirror-polished obsidian floor to split into a thousand jagged, smoking veins. The liquid gold code of Saint Aurelius was still pooling in the fissures, sizzling against the grey soot, but the central logic spindle had begun its final, unguided acceleration toward the zero-state.
