Night in Iron Hearth was never truly dark.
The mana-electric streetlights flickered to life in unison as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the black asphalt in a cool, bluish-white glow. But tonight, it wasn't just the streetlights that were burning. The factory chimneys in the industrial district exhaled thick, relentless plumes of smoke, and the windows of the Alpha Building glowed brightly—a sign that inside, people were working long into the night.
War was coming in less than a month. And Northreach had no time for sleep.
On the third floor of the Alpha Building, in a room converted into a makeshift laboratory, Rianor Sudrath stood before a massive chalkboard covered in equations. His hand held a piece of chalk, yet he wasn't writing. His eyes were fixed on the rows of numbers and symbols he had crossed out repeatedly, searching for a solution he hadn't yet found.
