Cessy rolled the crystal between her fingers while the royal column crawled out along the road below her tower.
Its current stayed buried beneath her cloak, where no knight squinting up at the ridge could ever feel it breathing. The wagons emerged last, turning the expedition's late departure into a number she could count without even trying very hard.
Lucan stood under the broken stair's shelter, letting the wind drag at his cloak instead of complaining about it.
"They're late," she said, catching the crystal before it slipped between her knuckles.
"Half an hour spent arranging a procession into the quarry, and look at them, still so pleased with their discipline."
"Their timetable is no longer our concern."
He looked past her toward the eastern ridge with a flat stare, "The incubation needed ninety days, and the containment shell is failing before the first cycle even settles."
