Dreth rammed his ring into the socket as Hajin hit the cistern edge, and a pulse tore through the branches. Beneath the southern gallery the route cracked open, while ash copies gathered above Dreth's burned wrists and the control mark.
The copies drifted into a wall between Hajin and the evacuation lane beside the cistern.
He checked the feed with his left shoulder locked motionless beneath his torn coat.
"You think this ends at the bank?" Dreth sneered, grinding the ring deeper, "twenty years of soldiers marched through this foundation, and every cord still answers me."
The Chain rose above Hajin's working wrist, its strike angled clear of the supports beneath the gallery.
Retreating conscripts were crossing that gallery with their ash-cords still fastened across their tunics.
The first one glanced toward the altar as the cord at his collar cinched tight against his neck.
"Get your hand off that rune!" Hajin roared, lunging for the closest branch.
