The drone cut through the mountain winds, its single red eye pulsing with mana as it transmitted its signal. Far below, in the sprawling camp of banners and tents, a crystal embedded in a mana map flared to life. The gathered patriarchs and matriarchs looked up at once as the coordinates burned into view.
"They've surfaced," one of them muttered, voice sharp.
The tent's atmosphere shifted immediately—commanders leaning over the glowing map, servants rushing to prepare. A young soldier, barely more than a boy, sprinted out from the tent, boots crunching against the frost-bitten earth.
He didn't stop until he reached the mouth of a cavern carved into the cliffs. Inside, torches flickered against stone walls, casting light on two figures seated apart but equally imposing.
"Lord Thorne—Lady Vaelora!" the messenger called, bowing low, chest heaving. "The drone has spotted them. Your children—by the northern ridge, near a concealed exit of the mountain."
