Reed used to love the dawn. Now, as the first smear of light leaked over the ruined keep's battlements, he felt only dread. The morning air tasted of iron and ozone, thick with the acrid stench of the Reality Firewall still sputtering in the distance. Every breath rasped against his throat like ground glass. Somewhere below, healers tried to quiet the screams of soldiers whose wounds made a mockery of anatomy; some shrieked in warped voices that belonged to half-remembered lives. All of them were his doing.