"Lylon!" Sarai barked. "Keep trying! I'll hold off the incoming disaster—whatever it is—for as long as I can."
"Huh? Wh-what do you mean?!" Lylon asked, holding his wife close, stunned by the sudden turn.
"Shut up and do what I say!" Sarai snapped, casting him a glare. "And stop smearing your tragic romance all over my battlefield!"
"Now's not really the time, Sarai!!" Lylon barked back, his voice cracking under the weight of panic.
She didn't look back. "Just get that thing working. This information must reach the capital… Something's coming to Pison. Something massive."
Lylon gritted his teeth and nodded.
He turned back toward the devices—stones glowing, dials twitching, ethereal glyphs fading in and out of sight—and began frantically tweaking them again.
"I'll assist you," Drac murmured, crawling to Lylon's side with shaking hands.
His face was pale, but his eyes were focused. "Try shifting the main shard counterclockwise. That'll buy us some arcflow…"
