The Obsidian Dreamers' war chamber had never seemed so vibrant — or so strained.
Baskets of candles guttered low, sending dancing shadows around the map table. In the middle, a highly detailed model of the royal capital floated in magical suspension. Curves of shimmering red indicated checkpoints, and blue runes throbbed around one lone black dot far below the palace.
The Peace Vault.
Kael stood at the front, arms folded, flanked by his Five Swords and the rebel commanders. I leaned against the back wall, drinking a bitter concoction and feigning not to hear too intently.
"This is it," Kael started. "The King's Festival of Light is set to take place in two weeks. He'll be departing the capital for the southern sanctuary — half the Peace Council and most of the royal guards will accompany him."
Talli arched a brow. "So we'll be going inside a hollow castle?"
Kael sparred with a shake of his head. "No. We'll be going inside a trap set to activate. Magical seals, relic-bound guards, energy surges keyed to the orb. This isn't a door to simply open. It's a timed ritual."
He swept his hand, and the map zoomed in on the palace substructure.
"Our mission is threefold," he said. "Infiltration. Disruption. Extraction.
He addressed Virella. "You and Kaine command the main infiltration party. Your responsibility is to remove the outer runes and break through the Vault's entry seal."
And to Drogan and Serik. "You two provide external security. Decoy maneuvers at central city gates. Attract notice. Delay reinforcements."
"And you?" I put my cup back up.
Kael's gaze settled on me. "You lead the Vault team. If the seal reacts to anyone, it's going to be you."
I gave a solemn nod.
Then promptly raised a finger to the sky and declared, "We ride into the jaws of a giant metaphor! Let history remember this day we—wait, is nobody writing this down?"
Dead silence.
Talli blinked. "Did he just say metaphor?"
Virella muttered, "Please let someone else give the real speech."
Kael just sighed. "Try not to scare the morale."
I gave a lazy salute and sipped again. "I only scare mushrooms. And sometimes myself."
Kael rolled out another scroll — marked with faded sigils. "We've also reactivated old contacts. Sleeper cells from the outer cities. Many of them thought the rebellion was over. But they still believe in the Dream."
Drogan grunted in agreement. "Finally we get to light the fire again."
Serik nodded. "Hope is never lost. Only misplaced."
In the other part of the room, soft murmurs started to swell as commanders were matched with units, messengers sent out, and decoys placed. Strategies ran like rivers down old paths.
I gazed at the map for a long time.
The palace. The Vault.
The orb.
I'd witnessed too many missions begin like this. Too many plans drawn on tables like this one — only to conclude in blood, silence, or some other hollow world.
"This better not be concluded by another speechifying mushroom," I grumbled.
Talli heard me. "What?"
"Long story," I replied. "Involves spores and poetry with sentience."
She wisely departed.
Kael scanned the room. "You understand what's on the line. The Vault isn't just a prison. It's a device. One we never requested, constructed on the backs of the ones who fought for this land."
He addressed each gaze individually.
"In fourteen days, we stop pretending that peace is peace. We give them a demonstration of what freedom is worth."
The map glowed. The energy of the orb flared once more, more intensely than before.
Down in the bowels of the palace, below stone and stillness.
Something stoked.
And waited.