The calibration hums through the workshop, a pulse of rising heat and metallic perfume. You lean closer to the compass, aligning the runes with careful patience. The brass gears murmur as the device shivers, then settles into a steady glow. Outside, the amber city seems to listen, as if time itself holds its breath.

A tremor crawls along the floorboards, but your hands stay sure. The fracture in the world narrows for a heartbeat, then flickers wider again. Whispers of yesterday flicker in the corners of the room, phrases you cannot quite recall. With a final inhale, you accept the risk and adjust the compass toward a new dawn.