That night, the sky above Brasswick bled red.
From the Iron Spire, beams of crimson light lanced upward, cutting through fog and cloud alike. They pulsed in rhythm, faster and faster, until the entire city seemed to throb with their glow.
Evangeline collapsed to her knees, clutching her head. "It's a signal," she gasped. "He's waking them—calling them."
"Calling what?" Selene demanded.
Elric stepped to the window. His breath clouded the glass as he stared at the city below. The streets shifted with movement—statues, fountains, even the iron lampposts wrenching themselves free from their moorings. They rose, their brass limbs groaning, eyes igniting with the Engineer's light.
"The automaton," Elric said softly. "Piece by piece, the city is standing up."
In the distance, the ground rumbled. A cathedral's spire twisted unnaturally, bending as if part of a greater skeleton. The cobblestones beneath their feet vibrated with the beat of some immense, unseen heart.
Selene spat a curse. "He's turning the city into his body."
"No," Elric whispered, eyes narrowing. "The city was always his body. We are just now watching it wake."