Rex stood motionless before the stone monolith, his silhouette cutting a sharp, unforgiving line against the amber haze of the frozen city. His mind was not on the pain in his jaw or the blood coating his knuckles; it was deep within the architecture of the moment.
Through [Divine Perception], he was reading the residual echoes of Theo's soul the way the temporal designation hadn't just been given but had been grafted onto a wound.
He connected the dots. The investment pattern of the divine authority, the specific harmonic frequency of the power, and the raw, desperate state of the vessel it inhabited.
All roads led to one location.
"You went there to jump," Rex said.
His voice wasn't accusatory; it was the terrifyingly calm observation of a predator who had just discovered why the prey was so eager to die.
Theo's jaw set with enough force that Rex could hear the grinding of bone against bone. His teeth clenched so hard the muscles in his neck stood out like steel cables.
