Hajin stood atop the central observation redoubt, his cloak whipping violently in the tempestuous mountain squall.
Aria's warning rune flashed beside Hajin's shoulder, and he raised a hand to halt the front line before the storm core descended.
Gales howled through the rocky pass, driving sheets of stinging spray across the parapets of the grand viaduct.
Beside him, six physical Rings rotated in steady harmony, their crimson and silver halos casting a protective ward around the command post.
"The air pressure dropped twenty millibars in five minutes," Aria reported, her spectral interface flickering beside his ear.
"This is not a meteorological phenomenon... the Choral Incarnation is manifesting its core vessel within the storm cloud."
Across the valley floor, the militia and auxiliary units braced behind the freshly raised palisades, their knuckles whitening around their pikes.
