Grace Luna felt the hum resonate through her arm as she held the Conduit aloft. The city’s shimmer-fields were failing again; another surge threatening to collapse the protective barriers. A single drop of cerulean essence dripped from the staff's tip, a desperate measure. She focused, channeling the dwindling power into the fractured weave, praying it would be enough to hold until reinforcements arrived. The wings pulsed with sympathetic energy, mirroring the city’s fragile glow.
this was a pretty low step result, only 200 steps!, around 1000 steps would be the min i'd use normally.