The chamber seemed to breathe with the shifting light of the projections. The ruin-spires flickered across the obsidian walls, their angles alien and cruel, as if the city itself had been invaded by another age.
For a long moment, no one dared to break Renard's words. Then, at last, a voice of iron rang from the far side of the table.
Commander Veyl, clad in Union Enforcement black, leaned forward, his scarred jaw catching the glow of the holo-screens. His eyes were steel-grey, the kind of eyes that had seen entire districts burn.
"Guildmasters," he said, tone sharp as drawn steel. "I don't care if this Dragon Lord raised those towers or if they sprouted from the soil themselves. The fact is, civilians are dying. Enforcement squads sent to investigate haven't returned. Whole blocks near that spiral tower are empty now—vanished. What we face isn't politics. It's survival."
Garruk grunted but did not interrupt this time.
