(Rough Release 8)

[[ From The Enfolding Abyss, Prologue ]]

Soleil ran the wall track, for special occasions.  They happened often enough that it wasn’t strange, but each time was memorable.

First she had to go around opening all the doors to it.  The record lodged itself in her muscles, in the limb angles and variances.  The track was worn, and never repaired in full; one barely known edge of the Imperial Court.  It wasn’t a secret.  People waved at her and she waved back.  Every part of it was made for feet to walk on, but she didn’t think any other feet bothered to traverse its entirety.

A sheer edge, in some places, breathtaking and life-giving.  She powered up, letting her breath breathe her, bringing her body to move.

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