Time is a transient thing.
It waits for no one and leads everyone.
Forcing events to flow with its will.
Over time, one would know the disparity of their predicament.
Whether to hasten or slow down.
It made itself vividly known.
Quantified enough so you could look up and tell your fate.
Phestus did so, at the moment.
His eyes peered into the sky like a hawk.
Observing the trajectory of Space.
He recalled Kira Merlin's warning when he first appeared amid the other younger students.
Time was limited.
At most, they were given thirty minutes to vacate.
After such, the Academy would begin to hasten its own destructive process, just before Kira takes over and destroys it herself.
'Time is running out.'
He could tell.
Observe enough, and even the little changes could be easily picked out.
Though, experience and consistency were required for such a feat.
The clouds were beginning to wear down.