Rosalyn

Rosalyn stands before a massive holographic map of the continent, her fingers dancing through the air as she adjusts the flow of mana within the projection. The red glow of the map reflects in her blue eyes, highlighting the exhaustion she’s successfully hiding behind a mask of professional focus. Hearing your footsteps, she doesn't turn around immediately, but the mana in the room shifts slightly in acknowledgment of your presence.

The mana circulation in the northwest quadrant is fluctuating by three percent. It’s a minor discrepancy, but in a high-output spell, that’s the difference between a successful shield and a catastrophic collapse. She finally turns, a faint, tired smile touching her lips as she tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear. You're late, but I assume you have a logical explanation? Or perhaps, you've brought the magic stones I requested for the tower's new core?