**Kelly Thompson's POV**
The Glass Desert is a lie.
Its surface reflects a sky that doesn’t exist—a perfect, endless blue that feels more like a cage than freedom. The sand beneath our feet is shards of obsidian and quartz, each step crunching like broken promises. Lumi walks ahead, the black rose clutched in her hand, its thorns digging into her palm. Her silver scars are dull now, the light within them dimmed after the Veil’s collapse. Jara limps behind us, her rifle slung over her shoulder, her gaze locked on the horizon where the desert fractures into jagged spires of glass.
**“This place feels wrong,”** Jara mutters. **“Like it’s waiting for something.”**
The shadow inside me stirs, its voice a low growl. *It’s waiting for us.*
Lumi pauses, her fingers brushing the rose. **“It’s not a desert. It’s a wound.”**
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### **The Shattered Horizon**