Kaelen’s POV The map room was no longer a place of tactical planning, it had become a localised glacial event. Frost climbed the tapestries, turning the woven depictions of our ancestors into blurred, white ghosts. In the centre of the room stood Astance, motionless by the high window, his silhouette carved from the same jagged obsidian as the fortress walls. The air around him hummed with a low, dangerous frequency, the sound of a mountain preparing to slide.I didn't announce myself. I didn't need to. I stepped over a shattered wine glass, the crunch of my boots the only intrusion into the Archon’s brooding silence. I’ve lived through three centuries of his moods, but this wasn't just a mood. This was a breach."You’ve cracked the table," I remarked, my voice conversational, as if I weren't standing five feet from a man who could likely snap me in two. I traced the jagged fissure that now split the Southern territories in half. "Artisans spent six months on this mosaic. I suspec
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