Timeline: TC1853.04.17-18 (Two Days)
Location: Seven Peaks - Formation Hall
The Formation Hall smelled like burnt spiritual energy and desperation.
Marcus stared at the crystalline array suspended in mid-air before him, watching formation patterns flicker and die for the forty-seventh time in twelve hours. His eyes burned with exhaustion that coffee couldn't touch anymore. His hands trembled from channeling technomagic through circuits that weren't designed for this kind of sustained output.
"Collapse again," Silas said from across the workbench, voice flat with the kind of exhaustion that transcended ordinary tiredness. The formation specialist looked like he'd aged a decade since they'd started this marathon—silver threading through his brown hair seemed more prominent, lines around his eyes cut deeper, shoulders sagging with weight that wasn't purely physical.
