"What does the eighth anchor do," Satou said.
Chronus looked at him with the specific patience of someone who was about to let an event explain itself more clearly than any description could.
"Wait," he said simply.
And the sky split.
—---
NORTHWEST ANCHOR — MORGANA
She had been working the connection for eleven minutes when she felt it.
Not the anchor's defensive response — she'd been managing that continuously, the working's resistance to her unseating technique requiring sustained attention and precise application across the entire duration. Not Chronus's attention redirecting toward her — she'd felt that earlier in the fight, the Tenth Seat's awareness sweeping northwest for a few seconds before returning to Satou.
What she felt was different.
A change in the ambient field above her position.
