Somewhere far off, a wolf howled. Another answered.
Lan's grip tightened slightly on the talisman paper tucked inside his coat.
Tomorrow, they would march deeper. Tomorrow, they would begin the work of taking Solaris.
But tonight, the wasteland watched them in silence.
-------------
The report came at dawn, wrapped in red and sealed with the mark of a low-level field agent.
That was already strange.
Maximus Aregard sat in the quiet of his private study, the glass walls to his left opening onto a view of the Imperial Gardens.
Morning mist swirled over the silver koi pond below, veiling the white stone bridge in thin cloud. The quiet here was deceptive—he could feel the pulse of the city even from this high up.
He broke the seal without ceremony, eyes skimming the parchment.
Lanard Solaris.
The name alone was enough to still his hand mid-turn.
