The gauntlets moved again.
One darted forward, claws out.
Senna deflected with the flat of her sword, but it kept going, swinging wide in a boomerang arc that carved a groove into the stone floor.
Lucen watched the pieces float.
Watched how they moved.
There was a rhythm. A pull.
Every time they hit, they drifted a little closer to the same point.
A spot in the center of the room.
A small, almost perfect circle etched into the ground.
'A reformation glyph?'
He stared harder.
It wasn't glowing. Not active.
Just old.
Ancient lines. Sharp symmetry. The kind of etching that wasn't done by hand but by intent. Like the glyph had willed itself into the stone over time.
Lucen whispered, "It's trying to reset."
Mira glanced over. "What?"
"It's not just attacking. It's pulling itself back together."
Senna kicked off the far wall and slid low across the floor, her blade dragging a faint spark trail behind her.
"Then stop it."
Lucen growled under his breath.
