The wind on the Pinnacle didn't just blow; it screamed. It tore at the loose flaps of their sanitation overalls and stung their faces with ozone and static.
In the center of the roofless observatory, Arch-Mage Valerius van Thorne floated ten feet above the stone floor. He was surrounded by a vortex of blinding white light—liquid mana being ripped violently from the atmosphere.
"Ten minutes!" Arthur shouted over the gale, checking the red numbers flashing on his iScroll. "The readings spiked an hour ago! You accelerated the drain!"
Valerius looked down. His eyes were no longer human; they were glowing orbs of pure power.
"Observation correct," Valerius's voice boomed, echoing from the sky itself. "I calculated a safe extraction over twenty-five days. But then someone flushed the pipes."
He glared at Julian.
