Lucien's focus sharpened.
The longer he stared into the Bark's strings, the less they behaved like information.
What he first thought were patterns revealed themselves as intersections. What he believed were intersections unfolded into frameworks. And every framework hinted at something older.
Lucien frowned.
This was depth.
He extended his fingers to within inches of the bark, then hesitated.
He remembered the fragment Eierne had given him and how he had nearly exploded when he touched it.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
"My spirit's foundation is different now," he murmured. "I can take more strain."
He did not sound fully convinced.
But he moved anyway.
Lucien reached out.
His fingertips brushed the Bark's strings.
And it occurred—
The world rejected him.
The inner realm vanished, and with it the sense of space. Lucien felt himself pulled inward.
He was drawn toward the conceptual space where his spirit resided.
