The thirty seconds arrived one at a time, which is how seconds work when everyone you love is holding a god.
The clone's returned memories hit Hajin mid-dissolution, the north front's whole morning in one delivery.
He rode it standing in river water with four Rings plus a stutter, because the plan had not included a chair.
The pinned core did not wait politely for him to finish feeling things.
It pushed anyway, with the whole sky chamber groaning like a struck hull.
A twenty-Shard-class structure, frozen at the transfer, rooted at the floor, cut from its rhythm, pushed the way a mountain pushes when it decides to be a landslide.
The entire sky chamber groaned like a ship changing its mind.
"Loccy," Eirwen called, with her roots flaring white along the lattice.
"It is loading all three sections into the floor. The lattice will hold that load, but it cannot hold it empty-handed."
