Atlas stood on the edge of the central node, arms crossed, watching the skyline change again. Yesterday there had been empty lots and half-finished frames.
Today, spiraling towers rose in tight clusters, their surfaces shifting from deep blue to warm gold depending on the mood of the people inside. Bridges arched between them, humming low notes when anyone crossed.
Down below, communal gardens spilled over with plants that twisted into edible shapes—faces from old stories, tools, even simple maps of the Weave itself. The horizon looked alive, a constellation of glowing points connected by faint threads of light.
The alliance with the Archivists had worked better than anyone expected. Their Living Archive fed knowledge directly into the Weave's construction patterns. Materials stabilized faster. Support structures reinforced themselves. But speed had a price.
"Growth debt," Lira called it. She stood next to Atlas now, tablet in hand, pointing at red marks on the projected map.
