The sky over Aethel-Luna was no longer filled with stars; it was an expanse of jagged, industrial shapes. The Ironside loomed like a massive anvil, its atmospheric stabilizers humming in a way that made the air feel heavy. Below, the city resembled a ghost of its former self. Shifters, coated in white salt paste, moved like pale figures through the shadows, unseen by the thermal sensors of the "Sanitization Drones" that patrolled the streets with clinical precision.Kael stood at the edge of the Lumina Embassy's ruins, his obsidian blade sheathed. He watched his daughter, Lyra, the first true child of the Synthesis, walk toward the center of the plaza. She wasn't wearing the salt armor. She shone like violet-silver light in a world of gray steel."Lyra, wait," Kael whispered, his hand catching her shoulder. "The Logic-Virus is made to rewrite anything with a signature. You're the loudest signature on the planet.""They aren't trying to hurt us, Daddy," Lyra replied, her voice ringing
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