The summons went out before dawn.
Encrypted channels awoke across every capital.
The Crowns called an emergency assembly—the first in nearly a century.
By midday, the world moved.
Convoys thundered through borders, airships rose beneath fractured skies.
All roads led to the Aetheric Concordium, the citadel of glass and iron built for peace, used only in disaster.
The last time its gates had opened, the First Pulse had remade the earth.
Archive Transport — Northern Approach
Vonix stood at the viewport, watching stormlight dance on the sea.
Comik said, "They'll want someone to blame."
Vonix: "They always do."
The ship turned toward the glow of the Concordium's towers piercing cloud.
Avelon Industries Convoy
Far above the traffic lanes, a black skimmer cut through mist.
Inside, Sarah Avelon sat alone.
Her wrist device pulsed faintly.
Blue threads crawled across the window—patterns, not reflections.
She watched, silent.
The pilot's voice: "Concordium in sight."
She closed her hand over the glow.
It pulsed once, matching the thunder.
The Aetheric Concordium
Seven towers linked by bridges of light, each glowing the color of a realm.
From the west came High Chancellor Varen of the Iron Dominion.
From the south, Councilor Halden of the Verdant Reign.
From the east, Lady Kairen of the Sol Crown.
Then the Archive's vessel landed.
Vonix stepped out—silence followed.
Moments later, a smaller craft descended.
No insignia.
No guards.
Sarah Avelon stepped into the rain.
Steam rose where it touched her.
"Uninvited," someone whispered.
"She came anyway."
Vonix glanced her way, unreadable, and turned toward the chamber.
She followed without a word.
Council Chamber
Crests of light revolved above the circular hall.
Vonix at the dais: "Tower Varda's fall was induced. The Archive confirms New Dawn involvement."
Murmurs.
Varen: "You're saying they triggered it?"
Vonix: "They weaponized resonance. We have proof."
Halden: "If they can imitate the Pulse—"
Silence.
Vonix lowered his voice. "The readings match early fluctuations—small, but dangerous."
Kairen: "Then another Pulse is possible."
No one replied.
At the far seat, Sarah sat still, expression unreadable.
She hadn't spoken once.
While voices rose around her—plans, blame, panic—she looked upward through the transparent dome.
Lightning curved across the clouds, forming perfect loops and mirrored lines.
To the others it was chaos.
To her, pattern.
Her wrist device flickered in rhythm with the storm.
She listened—calm, intent.
Not to them.
To it.
Outside, the clouds spiraled into luminous order.
Far below, among the ruins, Lume looked up and smiled.