The route to the terrace level was narrower than the lower mall floors, boxed in by shuttered storefronts and half-collapsed signs that made the light from my torch catch in broken angles. My footsteps sounded too loud. So did my breathing. Somewhere farther off, metal gave a faint creak that could've been the building settling or something moving where I couldn't see it.
I tightened my grip on the axe and kept going.
The higher I got, the worse that feeling became.
It wasn't pain exactly. More like my nerves pulling tight under my skin. The same reaction I got around Starakian tech, but sharper here, more focused, like I was finally closing in on the source instead of only catching the edge of it from a distance.
By the time I reached the terrace access door, I knew for sure.
Whatever was up there, it was real.
