She ignored it and kept working, because that's what she always did.
Problems were just variables to solve. Obstacles were just steps in the process. Success wasn't guaranteed, but failure only happened when you stopped calculating.
And Elara never stopped calculating.
Three weeks until opening.
Seventy-two variables left to manage.
Acceptable odds.
She pulled the next report toward her and continued reading, expression unchanged, while the city outside her window slowly dimmed into night.
.
.
.
Elara sat at her desk past midnight, staring at the calendar she'd marked with precise annotations.
Two months.
That's all the time she had left.
The preservation magic contract with the merchant guild had been her official reason for leaving the capital—supervising the implementation, ensuring quality, overseeing distribution. Valid work that justified her absence.
But that work was finished now. Had been for three weeks.
