The world wasn't there anymore.
It wasn't destroyed—just… on hold.
Adam drifted in something that felt like a dream he'd forgotten halfway through. Light pulsed around him in slow, lazy waves. He didn't know if he was breathing or just remembering how.
No ground. No sky. Just a low hum, like something waiting to begin.
He looked down. His body was half smoke, half light, but it held together. Over his chest, a mark glowed softly—where Veylor's power and his own had crashed together and stuck.
He remembered the end—Choice's final sound, not a scream, but a release. The pull in every direction until direction didn't mean anything.
Then nothing.
But now… a tug.
Not forward. Not back. Sideways—like something was waiting behind the scenes.
He followed.
Space bent gently around him. Emptiness turned to color, then shape, then sound.
And then—
He was standing on a wet city street.
