The War Council chamber loomed like a fortress within the fortress. Black glass walls rose three stories high, held in place by angular steel supports shaped like blades.
From the outside, it was silent. From the inside, faint murmurs of voices carried through the night.
Ara pressed her back to the shadow of a support beam. "Guards patrol the inner ring every forty seconds. We slip in between rounds. Lune, you take the vent shaft on the west side. Kiro, you're with me."
Kiro frowned. "Why not split us evenly?"
Ara's smirk was faint but sharp. "Because I need someone who can make people forget they saw us."
They waited—thirty-eight, thirty-nine, go.
Ara slid forward, hugging the curved wall until they reached a narrow service door tucked between steel struts. She produced a flat tool, popped the lock, and slipped inside without a sound.
The interior was colder, the air thick with the scent of polished stone and metal. Dim blue light traced along the floor in lines that seemed almost ceremonial.
"This place feels… wrong," Kiro whispered.
Ara's eyes flicked to him. "That's because it's designed to. Every inch of Spectra is about psychological pressure. They want you on edge."
They crept along a corridor, past towering doors etched with runes Kiro didn't recognize. Voices grew louder. Male, female, some clipped and military, others smooth and calculating.
They stopped behind a wall panel where a narrow gap revealed the chamber beyond.
The War Council sat at a long crescent table, facing a massive map of the four kingdoms projected in shimmering light. Small figures—representations of armies—moved across the map in real time.
Kiro's breath caught. "They're tracking everyone?"
Ara's voice was a whisper of steel. "Movements, troop counts, supply lines. This isn't defensive planning."
One councilor—a tall man with jet-black hair and a scar along his jaw—spoke.
"Our trade convoys to Zenis are secure. Langris has agreed to triple their steel shipments in exchange for firestone. Nior… remains cautious."
A woman in crimson armor leaned forward. "Then we break Nior's caution. Strike first, and the other two will fall into line."
Kiro felt heat rush into his chest. "They're planning a war."
Ara didn't answer—her jaw was tight, eyes locked on the projection.
Then, the projection shifted. In the center of the map, a fifth territory appeared—a pale, unmarked land surrounded by storm clouds.
Kiro frowned. "That's not on any map I've seen."
Another councilor spoke. "Phase One: secure the resources of the Obsidian Rift. Phase Two: use the Rift Gates to launch simultaneous strikes on the four kingdoms. No one will be able to react in time."
Kiro's mind raced. The Rift Gates—ancient relics said to link distant lands in an instant. He'd thought they were myths.
Ara's hand brushed his arm, subtle but firm. "We've seen enough. Time to go."
But before they could move, a sharp voice cut through the chamber.
"Enjoying the view?"
Kiro froze. Every councilor's gaze turned toward their hiding spot. The tall man with the scar stood, and the map flickered out.
In an instant, two guards were at the door, blocking the exit.
Ara cursed under her breath. "Kiro—"
"I know."
He reached out with his mind, threads sparking to life. The two guards' willpower was like stone—dense, resistant. He pushed harder, weaving in the idea that they'd heard an alarm outside the building.
For a tense heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, the guards stiffened and bolted toward the exit.
The scarred man's voice echoed. "Seal the west vent. They won't get far."
Ara yanked Kiro down a side passage. "Change of plan—we move now!"
They sprinted through the corridor, the echo of boots behind them. Lune dropped from the ceiling ahead, landing in perfect silence.
"You got it?" Ara demanded.
Lune held up a small crystal sphere. "Every word."
Kiro didn't have time to ask how—because at that moment, a squad of armored soldiers poured in from both ends of the hall.
Ara drew a short blade from her boot. "Guess we fight our way out."
Kiro's pulse pounded. He reached again for the mental threads—but this time, instead of pushing an idea, he pulled. The nearest soldier faltered mid-step, blinking in confusion. Another's grip loosened on his weapon.
Lune moved like liquid shadow, striking pressure points and vanishing before her opponents could react. Ara fought with ruthless precision, her blade flashing in tight arcs.
Kiro kept his focus, weaving disorientation through the minds of the attackers until they staggered, shouting in confusion.
They burst through a side door into the cold night air, sprinting toward the lower terraces.
Shouts followed them, but the streets here were a maze. Ara led them down a twisting path of alleys and bridges until the harbor lights appeared below.
Only when they were back on their ship did Ara finally speak.
"That fifth territory," she said, gripping the rail. "If Spectra controls it, they won't just win a war—they'll rewrite the balance of the world."
Kiro stared back at the looming cliffs. "Then we can't let them."