The night was thick with tension over the Obsidian Web's sprawling estate. Lanterns flickered in the courtyard, their light casting long, wavering shadows across the stone walls. Rayon, seated at the head of a long, obsidian table in the main hall, studied the maps sprawled before him. Cairo stood by the window, arms crossed, his jaw set like iron. Severin leaned back in his chair, twirling a dagger lazily between his fingers, but the air around him hummed with unspent energy.
"Reports indicate movement from the southern passes," Cairo said quietly, breaking the silence. His gaze was sharp, scanning the horizon through the open window. "Small contingents. Scouting, likely, but it's only a matter of time before the full force arrives."
Rayon's fingers drummed on the table. "The Sanctum doesn't move without purpose. If they've noticed our consolidation, they'll strike at the heart first. We can't underestimate them."
Severin's smile was slow, deliberate, almost bored. "The Sanctum thinks in terms of subtlety and manipulation. But subtlety dies when confronted with overwhelming force." He let the dagger clatter to the floor, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet hall. "We have numbers, intelligence, and terrain advantage. Let them come. Let them see how the Obsidian Web responds."
Rayon leaned back, the glow of the lanterns catching his sharp features. "We need more than just brute strength. They will test us—not just in battle, but in loyalty, in trust, in fear. One misstep and this entire operation collapses."
A sudden knock at the door drew all three men's attention. A messenger, panting and dirt-streaked, bowed quickly. "My lords… a vessel approaches the estate from the east. Black sails, no insignia—but… it bears the mark of the Sanctum."
The hall went quiet. Silence, heavy as stone, hung over the three leaders. Then Cairo let out a long, slow exhale. "So it begins," he muttered.
Rayon rose, straightening his cloak. "Prepare the perimeter. Every shadow, every alley, every tunnel they might use. We fight on our terms. Severin… I want the traps ready, the wards active. Cairo… your scouts, now. I don't care what it takes—let's see how patient the Sanctum really is."
Severin's eyes glimmered in the lantern light, dark and predatory. "Patience? Patience is a luxury for those who have no other choice. We… do not."
Outside, the wind shifted, carrying with it the faint scent of iron and ash. Somewhere in the distance, the black sails of the Sanctum's vessel caught the moonlight, and a single, chilling bell tolled—an announcement that the game had begun.
Inside, the three leaders exchanged one long, knowing look. The Obsidian Web was ready. But the Sanctum… they were about to test everything the Web had built, and the night would remember the reckoning that followed.