Fog came in thick from the sea, rolling in slow coils over the jagged piers and black-water bay.
It clung to the boards, dampened every sound, and smothered the morning light. In Ironwater Harbor, the gulls were the first to notice the change. They scattered, wings flashing white before melting into the mist.
From the shadow of the western cliff, Lan stood with his hands behind his back, pale grey eyes fixed on the sprawling docks below. Timber scaffolds bristled over half-finished hulls, and the masts of the finished warships reached like a forest toward the sky.
The largest of them bore the banners of Solaris, bright even in the haze. The naval heart of the southern coast.
Not for much longer.
"Begin," Lan said softly.
His talisman papers had been prepared the night before, ink burned deep with spiritual will. Venom's lieutenants carried them now, crouched in the rocks, their silhouettes black against the grey fog.
