The change was subtle enough that Elir initially thought the formation had entered another transition.
A moment earlier, Lucavion had been fighting for every adjustment. Three detached manifestations surrounded him, each being pulled by a different part of the chamber's turbulent mana, while the strain of maintaining them had already drawn blood to the corner of his mouth. His responses remained fast, often remarkably so, but they had become visibly expensive. Every correction travelled back through him, forcing his core to answer, his meridians to carry the burden, and his body to endure whatever remained after the two had done their work.
Then the next current arrived.
The sphere to Lucavion's left shifted several inches with it.
Elir's fingers moved toward the warning control.
The sphere returned on its own.
He stopped.
