The structure did not resemble anything they had seen before.
Not in form.
Not in function.
Not even in intention.
It rose from the corridor's end like an interruption in reality itself—an immense vertical plane, yet not flat. Its surface curved inward and outward simultaneously, as if space folded across it in overlapping layers. Lines of light flowed across it in complex patterns, intersecting, dissolving, reforming.
It was not a door.
It was not a wall.
It was something that chose not to be defined as either.
Neo slowed as they approached.
Not from caution.
From awareness.
"It's… active," Ast whispered.
"That's an understatement," Cassandra replied.
The closer they came, the more the structure revealed—not visually, but conceptually. It wasn't simply emitting light; it was processing it. The streams that had lined the corridor now converged into the surface, disappearing into its shifting geometry.
Feeding it.
Lira folded her arms, studying it.
