She reached the penthouse balcony. The glass doors were reinforced polycarbonate. She didn't try to break them. Instead, she pulled a small, black device from her belt—a sonic resonator. She pressed it against the glass, dialed the frequency, and watched as the molecular structure of the "unbreakable" glass destabilized, turning into a puddle of gel at her feet.

She did not see with her eyes. She listened with her bones. When the Thongrar rippled and whispered, offering futures of ash and thorns, she did not flinch. She did not command. She simply received —like a cup catching poison so that others might drink water.

Pythia Black vs. Thongrar Best: Which Reigns Supreme for Your Workflow?