The bridge signal arrived as a stuttering blue flash from the fortress lantern. It came twice, stopped, then returned as a weak pulse that did not finish its sequence.
Yan turned from the courtyard. “That is Han’s marker.”
Relay keeper Bor leaned over the dais. The lantern had been built for the fortress, but its base still held the earlier connection to the eastern mill. “I’ll test the mark before we answer. A copied call would use the same color but not the same pulse.”
He set one finger beside the carved line and waited. The lantern answered from the bridge with three short lights and a fourth that died halfway through.
“It’s the real marker,” Bor said. “The charge is low. I can’t carry more than a brief instruction.”
The first words came through a moment later. Han’s voice was faint, broken by static and distance: “Retreat … road struck … carts split …” Then the lantern went dark.
Yan leaned closer. “Can you call her back?”
“Not without charging the relay again. I can send a short instruction to the mill on the prepared path.”
