Loose stones lifted around Hajin's feet below the ridge, while Dreth raised his baton beyond the ruined road at dawn. Buried control stakes ringed the commander, and the remaining siege engines waited behind him, their crews beside the winding arms.
Juna slid closer with her daggers low as the floating stones turned to follow their blades.
"They're tracking our mana," she growled, ears pinned flat beneath the nearest drifting shard, "and that bastard's waiting for us to swing first."
"So he can drop half this hill on our heads the second we do."
Hajin checked the temporary collar on the leading links, the bronze salvage and silver flux that Ferra wrapped around them. She pulled both from the workshop's repair bin, giving the recoil an escape without closing a single fracture beneath it.
'Don't mistake the brace for a repair, those links are still broken underneath.'
'One restrained Lash under the collar mark, and the brace burns away taking the recoil.'
