“Where is the redness I saw last time?” Wax asked, nodding to the planet. Six years ago a red haze had been coming over the planet, as if to swallow it. “Did you drive it off?” “No,” Harmony said softly. “It Invested the planet. Invested … me. What you saw was a shroud, Waxillium. I responded too slowly. It is … a failing that grows more dangerous in me. By the time I realized what was happening, that shroud had come over me. It doesn’t hurt, it merely dampens my ability to see.”
