The horizon behind them was no longer a skyline; it was a wound. The white-gold pillar of the High-Exarch's light had finally consumed the Obsidian City, leaving only a shimmering heat haze where the spires once pierced the clouds.
"The Master's frequency... it's gone," Lorelei whispered, her violet form nearly transparent as she leaned against the side of the lead wagon.
Eren gripped the reins, his knuckles white. The obsidian-laced carmine energy in his chest didn't flare in grief; it grew cold, heavy, and silent. He didn't look back. He couldn't. Aden had taught him that in a "Feedback Loop," looking back was the quickest way to lose your rhythm.
"He's not gone," Eren said, his voice flat. "He's just offline. Zero, what's the range on the border?"
