Gray stood on the observation terrace of the Haven Ring’s western spire, wind tugging at his coat as dawn struggled through the ash-colored clouds. Below, the city moved—no, flowed.

In the span of hours since the pulse had surged from the central chamber, the entire ring had begun to change. Roads once cracked and dead now shimmered with faint light. Old steel skeletons of buildings straightened as if exhaling, panels sealing their own fractures, cables rethreading like muscle.

He’d ...