The central pylon in the artisan square pulsed with a shrill, harmonic whistle every six heartbeats, broadcasting imperial orders into the pavement.
Every cycle of the divine beacon searched for unclassified souls, threatening to dump its accumulated load into the eastern residential tenements.
Ferra knelt beside the bronze baseplate, her diagnostic gauges vibrating violently as she tracked the rising frequency spikes.
"I can reroute the primary load through our Masterwork Network!" she warned, wiping grease from her cheek with her sleeve.
"The pylon alters its harmonic pulse whenever it detects a new conduit... so a blind cut will collapse the entire eastern quarter!" she shouted.
Didi maintained a thick frost housing around the baseplate, freezing the external conduits to prevent civilian casualties without contaminating her blood.
Vella hovered near the perimeter, isolating the coerced city watchmen from the pylon before the feedback loop could ignite their cores.
