The freezing wind reached the upper stair before Hajin could see the elevated heart, scraping frost across the rail where Juna's hand had rested moments earlier.
He pulled the torn proposal pages beneath his coat, then climbed through a broken arch while Didi's six Shards spread wide enough to shield the workers following behind them.
The upper terrace had become a tilted field of bronze plates, snapped weather poles, and empty operator chairs that still carried the warmth of people removed from them.
Ferra dropped to one knee beside the nearest chair, pressed two fingers against its control groove, and watched a pale memory crawl through the damaged metal.
"They were taken alive," Ferra said. "The chairs remember hands leaving before the heart changed command."
Oren Kest reached the terrace behind them with three weather keepers, his cracked slate clutched against his ribs while the wind dragged his cloak toward the tower edge.
