Kael laughed, a dry rasp. "Lady, I draw maps to doors that don't exist. You're asking for a new architecture."
Kael never left the planet. He became something stranger: a real planner. His hands healed crooked, but his sight grew clear. He learned that a neon plan is just a promise until someone plugs it in. neon plans
In the rain-slicked sprawl of Metropolis-7, neon wasn't just light—it was language. Every flickering sign, every humming tube of magenta or electric blue told a story. But for Kael, neon was the only alphabet he had for the future he couldn't afford. Kael laughed, a dry rasp