The transport vessel shuddered as its mana-thrusters reversed polarity.
It was a heavy, iron-clad beast, built for durability rather than comfort. There were no windows in the troop bay, only the dull, rhythmic thrum of the crystalline engine core beneath the floor plating. The air inside smelled of ozone and recycled heat.
Vane stood by the loading ramp. He watched the rune-cluster on the wall. It pulsed with a steady red light, counting down the stabilization sequence.
"We are holding," Vane said, his voice echoing slightly in the cramped metal bay.
Isole sat on the bench opposite him. She gripped her staff with white knuckles. She wore a heavy grey cloak over her uniform, and a leather filtration mask hung around her neck.
"The vibration," Isole whispered. "It feels like the engine is fighting the air."
"Atmospheric density," Vane replied. "The report mentioned heavy fog. The thrusters are working harder to maintain lift."
