We were in a workshop now, where Discord’s vitruvians worked. There was a single object in a glass display-case in the center of the room, about the size of a sack of cooking flour. Inside was a machine, with spindly metal legs and a ragged sail. Discord casually ripped a computer screen from a desk and shattered the glass with a single strike. “This little relic is all that’s left, Selene. Our one last chance to avoid inevitability.”