The nearest gear screams.
The shriek of metal rips through the plaza with enough force to make several priests flinch backward. One of the outer gears jerks violently as the alignment ring lurches out of balance.
“Hold it!” I shout.
The gear spins faster.
Another group of mages throw their strength into the control rings, runes blazing as they attempt to restrain the sudden surge of motion with their magic.
But it is not enough.
The mechanism runs away from them.
If the mirrors shift too quickly the full blaze of the surface sun will crash through the shafts all at once.
I look to Thrassus, standing some distance away. “Guide the Reskala. Secure the perimeter.”
He understands without elaboration. This feels like sabotage, and it could mean Solutus are near. Trusting he will carry out my command, I step forward. The Priests scatter before me, and Vargrún stirs at my nape.
Sheep before a wolf. Look at their frightened eyes.
Morvane responds the moment I raise my hand. The runes along my arm ignite in deep blue light, and cold threads of magic spill outward from my palm like strands of lightning woven from shadow.
The lines strike the gear.
The entire mechanism shudders…
Stops.
The silence in the wake of it is absolute.
Auryn moves beside me, the living flame of her aura brushing against my side. She studies the halted mechanism for only a moment before lifting a hand.
“There.”
I follow her gaze. A narrow fracture runs along one of the inner braces where a protective ward has worn thin over years of strain.
The ward lattice has degraded. The pressure from the mirror’s weight was too much even for the aethersteel to bear.
I catch her wrist before she can move closer.
Do not overextend.
The fever surges through the Bond again, sharper this time. She meets my eyes.
You worry too much.
I worry precisely enough.
For a moment neither of us moves.
She nods and steps forward. The Priests watch her with wariness and trepidation, awe for their Resh’Agar melting into contempt as she walks closer.
White-gold magic gathers around her hands. When she touches the damaged brace, the metal glows, hissing and whining as her power bends it to her will. The fracture softens beneath her mana.
You’re melting aethersteel.
She doesn’t break eye contact with the gears.
