The rain, impossibly, stopped.
Above, the clouds parted over Natra Phan. The floating city glittered, stable and true, its lanterns reflecting off a now-calm sea. And in the dry, singing Core far below, the Heart pulsed gently—not trapped, but home. Natra Phan 2
“Fine,” she whispered. “But if you’re wrong, I’ll throw you to the leeches myself. And I’ll keep the Heart.” The rain, impossibly, stopped
“We did it,” he said.
