The feedback was faint but it was there.
Without it, Lukas might have convinced himself that the circulations were producing nothing — that the thousand rounds per minute were simply star energy moving in organized patterns with no consequence beyond the organization, the technique failing silently in the particular, invisible way of things that decline to work without announcing the declining. But the feedback existed, the specific, internal register of the All Heavens Mandate communicating its status the way a deep current communicates its presence to a hand held still in moving water — not dramatic, not obvious, but unmistakably real to anyone patient enough to feel for it rather than look for it.
Working. Slowly. Honestly....
At exactly the pace that the beginning of something enormous was permitted to move.
The potion from the records.
