The calibration ended at the eleventh hour of Goldtide's second day, and the map changed.
The territorial map was unchanged: eighty-two grids, borders stable, population density contours shifting west along the railway corridor at a rate consistent with infrastructure-driven urbanisation. That map hadn't changed in three years. The new map was underneath it. Or beside it. Or inside it, layered into the same geography with a resolution that made the old perception feel like reading a book through frosted glass.
Eight million, twelve thousand, four hundred and nine points of living intent. That was what the Soul domain showed him when the calibration window locked open and stayed. Faith signatures were the old aperture, flat, quantitative, a census of belief measured in daily FP generation per capita. Living intent was three-dimensional. Each point had mass, direction, emotional gradient, a kind of spiritual momentum that he could track the way a current-map tracked river flow.
