General Kael Vardon did not like the way Ashen River pulsed on the relief map.
The carved stone continent lay across the great war table like a frozen thing, its mountains and coasts smoothed by years of use. Tiny runes flickered where scouts had placed fresh reports. Trade routes and borders glowed faintly. But the mark at the centre—the symbol for the dungeon—beat like a second heart.
It brightened. Dimmed. Brightened again.
"Again," Kael muttered.
The spymaster beside him cleared his throat.
"The latest pulses match the readings from the Technomancer attempt," he said. "Their sensors woke half the relay towers for a day. After that…" He gestured at the twitching rune. "This."
Kael listened without looking at him. He had already read the written report twice.
League activity increasing around the site.
Concordat mercenary skyship sighted changing course.
Holy mana signatures from the south—Valtis, probably, pretending to be neutral.
