The wind howled across the southern ridge, sharp and dry in the aftermath of fire and light.
Morpheus stepped over a scorched line in the snow, his long coat snapping behind him as he advanced toward the impact zone. Around him, the outer wardline flickered intermittently—some glyphs still pulsing weakly, others dark, burned out entirely. The faint scent of ozone and scorched stone lingered in the air.
Wizards fanned out across the ridgeline, sweeping the perimeter in tight, controlled units. Their robes were dusted with ash, some still smoldering faintly where fire had grazed them. None were panicked. None were shouting. They moved like soldiers, not scholars quick-eyed, disciplined, and rather grim.
Kazuki walked beside Morpheus, his expression unreadable as he scanned the shattered ward-stones embedded in the ground.
"The shielding lattice here was obliterated in the first few seconds," Kazuki said quietly, crouching to inspect a melted keystone. "Rune structure's completely cracked. Nothing this precise has hit us before. It wasn't random every strike was deliberate."
Morpheus nodded once, crouching near a twisted bronze conduit. He brushed a gloved hand over it, examining the fracture lines.
"They were testing us," he murmured. "Measuring. Mapping."
"No casualties," one of the perimeter officers reported as he jogged up behind them. "Three with minor burns. No breach, no intrusion. They hit the shields and left."
"Too fast for a proper counter," Kazuki said through clenched teeth. "But the moment they struck our mages were already in position."
Morpheus stood again and looked back toward the base. He could see the long lines of defenders still standing at their stations wands drawn, eyes fixed on the distant cliffs. Tracer charms floated above their heads, scanning for magical signatures. Three skybound conjurers hovered high above the temple's apex, circling wide with enchanted lenses.
They hadn't retreated in chaos.
They hadn't retreated at all.
"They probably didn't expect discipline." Morpheus said, his voice carrying just enough to reach the nearby soldiers. "With our recent bouts they would probably lean toward fear."
A few heads turned. One of the younger enchanters Korean, with a jagged burn across his left arm tightened his grip on his wand and gave a firm nod then promptly went back to repairing the damage.
Kazuki straightened and folded his arms. "They aimed for where our reactions would be slowest. The southern sector is rather slim, I wouldn't think they would want to attack here."
"We've drilled it into them," said a wardmaster passing by, his hands still glowing faintly from recent reinforcement spells. "Since the day we arrived our men know how to respond to these attacks."
Morpheus turned to face the rest of the assembled group. "Good," he said plainly. "They know how we respond now, I'm guessing two more tests before they lose patience and rush in. This is a rather new strategy for these creatures."
He looked again at the collapsed ward segment.
"We'll rotate fresh shield glyphs in tonight," Kazuki said. "I've already pulled the reserve casters for reinforcements."
"No." Morpheus's tone was calm but firm. "Don't repair it yet."
Kazuki blinked. "You want to leave it open?"
"Not open," Morpheus said, walking a few paces forward. "Vulnerable-looking. Weak. Let them believe they've exposed a crack. Tell your ward masters to look like they are struggling to repair the southern wards. In the meantime subtly bring the ward line inward three feet and wait to activate them."
He turned to the rest of the unit.
"Next time they come back, we'll be waiting inside the crack."
The soldiers nodded some grimly, some with fierce anticipation.
Far above, the sky had cleared. The storm had passed.
But every wand was still in hand.
***
The stone doors of the war chamber slid shut behind them with a muted thud, silencing the mountain winds. Kazuki moved first, brushing ash from his sleeves as he approached the central table, its illusionary top still flickering with defensive grids and ridge markers.
Morpheus trailed behind, slower, thoughtful—his gaze still shadowed from the ridge inspection. The silver lines beneath his eyes caught the flickering light from the sconces as he turned toward a pair of twin black-framed mirrors resting in carved cradles at the edge of the table.
Kazuki tapped the right one with his wand.
The surface rippled.
On the other side of the world, deep within the snow-capped monastery that had become the Himalayan front's stronghold, Tenzin appeared in the mirror's surface. His face was streaked with sweat and ink from long hours of charting leyline surges. Behind him, rows of monks worked in low murmurs, shuffling parchment and stirring enchanted incense.
"Kazuki," Tenzin greeted, his voice calm but urgent. "I received the message. You were attacked?"
Kazuki nodded, pulling up a schematic of the shattered southern ridge and the warding pattern that had collapsed.
"Strategic strike," he said. "Clean, precise. Thirty seconds at most. No casualties. They struck our weakest point one I had not believed they'd identified."
Tenzin frowned. "Angels or demons?"
"Both," Kazuki answered. "A mixed formation. Quick and coordinated."
Tenzin exhaled slowly, steepling his fingers in front of him. "We'll double the reinforcement runes on our own ridges. How are your supplies holding?"
"We've got enough to hold for three months," Kazuki said. "But that's under the assumption we don't come under siege. If they hit the supply line from the east—"
"We're already preparing a mirror route through the northern peaks," Tenzin replied before Kazuki could finish. "Ilvermorny's convoy left Shanghai this morning. They'll have binding crystals and two dozen spellfire engineers."
Kazuki raised a brow. "I thought the Americans were still stalling."
Tenzin smirked faintly. "They were. Then they saw what happened in Egypt."
Morpheus had been silent until now, arms folded as he stood beside the wall-mounted tactical map. At the lull in the conversation, both men turned to him.
Tenzin asked, "Your thoughts, Morpheus? Should we accelerate the trap?"
Morpheus's gaze didn't leave the map, but his voice came low and even.
"This war is so very different from the past."
Tenzin tilted his head. Kazuki remained still.
"In the old wars, they came separately—demons, gods, angels. Alone, arrogant, believing brute force would win them every ground. They never coordinated. Never planned. Only surged forward on pride and thunder."
He turned now, the shadow of memory in his eyes.
"But now they've adapted. Now they speak. They plot. They test the walls before breaking them. They've finally understood they can fail."
Kazuki gave a quiet nod. "And that makes them more dangerous."
"No," Morpheus said. "That makes them predictable. It is far easier to mislead generals than beasts."
Tenzin smiled, just faintly. "So we spring the trap?"
"Soon," Morpheus replied, voice like smoke. "But not yet. Let them feel clever. Let them think they're ahead. Then we cut their throat on the second pass."
Tenzin gave a respectful bow through the mirror.
"I'll report again in forty-eight hours. If anything changes, I'll send notice through the Tibetan channel."
"Understood," Kazuki said.
The mirror rippled again and Tenzin's face vanished.
Kazuki exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "You're right. This war… feels different. And we've already changed more than most realize just to stay standing."
Morpheus's gaze drifted back toward the temple's stone ceiling toward the weight pressing down from all around him; then his thoughts traveled to a certain black pit in his manor.
"And we haven't even seen the worst of it."