The light in the meadow dimmed.

At first it was subtle — a flicker at the edge of the horizon, a slight distortion in the flow of the ambient glow. But the shift deepened fast, crawling through the sky like a bruise spreading under glass.

Hale felt it before he saw it.

The pulse.

A vibration, low and rhythmic, threading through the new Echo’s fabric. The sensation was wrong — off-key — like a familiar song rewritten in a minor key.

Gray’s head snapped up. “You feel ...