Her breath caught.
Thick stone slabs framed the structure in perfect alignment, not a crack or wobble in sight.
The base was reinforced with carved supports that locked together like puzzle pieces, and the interior was lined with smoothed obsidian bricks.
The rim sat solid, balanced, and perfectly level. Not a single flaw. Not even a wobble when she gave it a light tap.
It didn't just look sturdy—it looked like it would survive a small earthquake and still draw water.
"Wow," Isabella said, genuinely impressed. "You all did a really good job."
One of the men chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Eh, it was only because of the young man behind you that we were able to perfect it without your instructions."
Isabella blinked. Her steps slowed.
She turned slightly—She turned.
Her gaze lifted—slowly, almost unwillingly—and landed on Cyrus.
And just like that, her thoughts short-circuited.
