The central freight classification yard of Haven-Hold was an eighty-acre grid of steel, gravel, and air-powered logic.
Forty-eight parallel sorting tracks spread out from the twin hump leads like the ribs of a huge steel fan.
Every turnout was fitted with electro-air-powered switch machines, operated by eighty-pound tightly packed-air cylinders connected to a central linked tower.
Color-position light signals on high gantries governed every movement with strict, exact care: three amber lights for caution, three upright greens for clear, three level reds for stop.
Through the shimmering black tear of the Void-Rift in the yard center, twenty thousand Umbral Void-Knights charged into the classification bowl.
Mounted on spectral night-steeds with glowing purple hooves, their lances trailing tendrils of deep-sea dark-fire, the elite shock cavalry of Shadow-Archon Malanthir looked like a nightmare summoned from the outer dark.
“Trample their machines.” Lord Commander Gorr roared, leveling his void-lance toward the two-story brick switching tower. “Ride down their switch-men. Shatter the iron web of Haven-Hold.”
Twenty thousand spectral steeds broke into a thunderous gallop across the track ballast.
