The Ferrin’s engine roared. Not with aggression—with purpose. Rosalind was offering a pact. Mara would have to connect Elara’s nervous system directly to the car’s diagnostic core. It was impossible. It was insane. It was the only way.
The Womb was a sinkhole where a thousand wrecked cars had been crushed into a geometric canyon. At its heart lay the Cradle: a pristine, cherry-red 2178 Ferrin GT that had been in a head-on collision. The driver, a famous rally champion named Kaelen, had died instantly. But the car… the car had refused to power down.
In the labyrinthine alleys of the Rust Market, where scavengers haggled over scraps of obsolete technology, Mara first heard the word. Cardiagn .