When he touched it, the world did not go silent.
Nak-Il Tano stood up. He walked back to Sinkhole Ridge. He took his slate and wrote one line for Mags:
Nak-Il descended alone. The Whisper Canyons were a graveyard of steel and crystal, the bones of a civilization that had talked too fast, too loud, too much. He followed the faint pulse in his fingertips—a thrumming rhythm like a distant heartbeat.
It exploded.
