The sirens of Sector Seven screamed into the freezing night air, a desperate, mechanical wail that signaled catastrophic localized failure.
The primary Faith Point condenser facility was a massive, sprawling complex of iron, brass, and localized devotion. At its heart stood the condenser itself—a towering, four-hundred-foot spire of spiraling aether-glass that absorbed the prayers of the surrounding foundries and beamed them directly to the Eternal Forge. Below the spire, the residential blocks housed three thousand mortal laborers, crammed into brutal, hyper-efficient barracks.
Tonight, the complex was burning.
The attack had come exactly at midnight. It had not started with a riot or a localized labor strike, as the Ministry of Whispers had predicted. It had started with six synchronized, high-density explosive breaches along the facility's reinforced perimeter.
