The golden-white eye projections continued to propagate in the air around Runar's cage. Slow. Luminous. Casting faint shifting patterns across the dense script ground far below.
The diagrams that leaked from his eye turned like the hands of a clock that measured something no one else could see.
For the people still trapped in their own spatial barriers, those diagrams had become the only source of progress left. The only thread to grab. The only hand reaching down into the pit.
