The temple spire. The Hub. The beacon itself. They were all immolating. Avar, please, please don’t be there, he thought. They’d already had readings suggesting the Ataraxia had made its escape, but Elzar couldn’t help worrying. It was wrong to wish for one person’s survival more than any other’s—a sign of “attachment”—but at the moment Elzar didn’t give a damn.
