Chapter Two: Coordinates of the Wing Bone

Su stared. Lin opened his hand. The droplet rose, orbited his finger, and hovered. "Reproducible?" she asked. "Give me a reference object." She produced a coin. Lin focused on the curvature around it, imagining the gradient folding gently left. When she released it, it did not fall. It flew sideways into his palm. Once. Twice. On the third attempt, he lost all sense of down. Nausea seized him, and he vomited against the wall. The price was as explicit as the power: each alteration of gravity stripped away a layer of his own orientation. Footsteps sounded overhead. More than one person. At least twelve, all moving in perfect rhythm. Chen Du's voice came through a corridor speaker. "You are four days faster than your father was, Lin Yan."