Gravity died the exact second the blinding white light swallowed him whole.There was no wind, no sound, and absolutely no sense of direction. Finnian OConnell was not falling down, nor was he floating up. He was simply existing in a terrifying, infinite expanse of absolute nothingness. The chaotic roar of the exploding Imperial Tower faded into a dead, suffocating silence that made his eardrums throb in protest. "Focus, London," Finnian grunted, his voice sounding incredibly hollow, stripped of all echo. "Just focus on the dirt. Smell the pine. Smell the mud of Greyfenwood."He clutched his gaping stomach wound tightly with his good right hand. The agonizing, fiery pain of the Emperor blade was slowly numbing, frozen by the absolute zero temperature of the dimensional rift. His mutilated left hand, missing two fingers, throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache. His biomechanical right leg pulsed with a faint, warm green light, becoming the only source of illumi