The claw wasn't just a clue; it was a lodestone, pulling all our frantic energy into a single, grim focus. The playful "Argument-as-Generator" sessions were over. Now, our debates had teeth, and they were all about the claw, its owner, and the fate of Lyra.Kairi, in particular, was obsessed. The mystery was a perfect equation with a missing variable, and it called to the Lawgiver in him like a siren song. He spent hours bent over the thing, not with his ice-lens, but with his power, trying to tease out its history, its origin, the faintest echo of its maker.“The conceptual shaping is flawless,” he muttered, not for the first time, as we sat around the hearth that night. The claw sat between us on the table, a dark, accusatory centerpiece. “There’s no seam, no hesitation. It’s as if the maker dreamed the sigil, and the metal obeyed. This isn't just skill. It’s a form of… absolute artistic tyranny.”“Or love,” Lyra said quietly. She’d been staring into the fire for an hour. “To fix a
Last Updated : 2025-12-22 Read more