The Blackspire Fortress was never still.
Not the quiet of a vacuum, but the kind of stillness that preceded watching eyes. A hush full of weight, as if the walls themselves were standing with bated breath, waiting.
Waiting for something to happen.
Waiting for him to move.
Draegor Nyx stood at the topmost balcony of the fortress, looking out over the rolling sweep of black mountains lying beyond. The sun was only beginning to rise, painting a crimson glow across the jagged peaks. He remembered something ancient, something lost in time.
A battlefield, maybe.
A kingdom before it had been ruined.
Or perhaps just a foretelling of what was to come.
Below, in the lower courtyards, his men were stirring. Men donned armor, sharpening swords with easy practice. Shadows capered among stone pillars, messengers rushing through secret paths.
The pieces were in motion.
But they had not reached the center of the board yet.
Velistra's Hunt
Velistra moved effortlessly through the halls.
The information Draegor had requested was unavailable. Varros' name never came up in casual rumor. It was kept hidden, woven into the sort of stories meant to be forgotten.
She'd never been comfortable with silence.
The Wraith Queen had agents in every dark corner of the globe. Her reach extended beyond simple agents—she had eyes where other humans would not be bothered to look.
And now, those eyes had finally found something.
She descended into the underground corridors of the fortress, where torches threw shadows against damp stone. One man knelt before her, bound in irons of chill metal.
The prisoner had once been a nobleman—now he was little more than a shadow of his former self, his robes torn, his face weary.
But his mind…
His mind still held secrets.
Velistra approached slowly, her steps unhurried. She crouched down, leveling her gaze with his.
"You know why you're here."
The man swallowed, but he did not speak.
Velistra's smile did not falter. She reached out, lightly tracing a nail across his temple. Not hard enough to cut—just enough to remind him of what she could do.
"I only ask once," she murmured. "Where was he last seen?"
For an eternity, only silence.
Then, finally.
"Ashrend Vale."
The title rippled a wave of recognition through the room.
Velistra's expression didn't shift. She stood, brushing dust from her gloves before proceeding toward the door.
She had what she needed.
Now Draegor's choice was what to do next.
Zaelith's Watch
Zaelith stood a distance from the fortress at the end of a narrow ridge.
The enemy camp still lingered. They hadn't departed.
That left two options: either they were expecting a signal… or they'd already received it and just hadn't moved yet.
Zaelith considered his options.
He could wait, observe a little longer. But Draegor had told him to make them feel watched.
So he did.
He moved forward, just enough that the morning light fell on the edge of his sword.
One of the scouts below raised her head. Her body went tense, eyes running along the ridgeline. She spotted him.
Zaelith didn't move.
He didn't raise his rifle. He didn't retreat.
He just stood.
Watching.
And that was enough.
The enemy scout turned around, speaking rapidly to someone unseen.
Good. Let them guess. Let them wonder.
Zaelith smiled, moving out of the way. The seed of doubt had been planted.
Now, they would get to see it germinate.
Seraphis' Veil
Seraphis stood in the center of the fortress, entwined about her by coiled tendrils of darkness.
Shifting the veil was no easy task. Patience, and accuracy—command—were required.
And required.
Draegor had given her command, and she did not disappoint.
She drove her fingers into the stone floor, shadows spreading outward, insinuating themselves into every crack, every crevice. The veil spread, unfolding beyond the walls of the fortress, threading into the very fabric of the land.
To a viewer from the outside.
nothing.
No light, no motion—only the omnipresent, inexorable presence of something unseen.
By the time the enemy realized they were blinded. it would be far, far too late.
Draegor's Next Move
The boards were put in place.
Velistra had found a way. Zaelith had disrupted the enemy. Seraphis had ensured their stronghold was hidden.
Draegor was once again standing in front of the massive stone table, staring at the map.
One marker was placed at Ashrend Vale.
Varros had visited.
But did he still?
Draegor's fingers ran along the rim of the map. He could send out scouts, but that was only to be expected. If Varros was actually on the move, he would expect that.
Instead… he would take another action.
One that was not expected.
He glanced at the figures standing in front of him.
Velistra. Zaelith. Seraphis. All of them had done their job. Now it was time for the next step.
"We depart at dusk," Draegor said.
Velistra's eyes sparkled.
Zaelith's grin grew wider.
Seraphis simply nodded, darkness curling around her fingertips.
The storm hadn't yet come.
But it was coming.
And when it did… it would be unstoppable.