The presence at the midpoint did not advance.

It simply existed more thoroughly, as though the act of being perceived had thickened it. The root lattice between the third place and the living mansion flexed around its location without rejecting it. That alone was information. Everything else that had approached the climate since the ninth syllable anchored had been asked the same question—Was the hunger specific?—and sorted accordingly. This thing had either answered yes, or it had been waiting long enough to learn the correct shape of the answer.

Zelda felt Kael’s attention lock onto the midpoint through the continuous climate. His body was still in the ruined throne room,...