When the Ice Belle had fully dispersed herself through the unseen currents of the valley, there was no visible sign of her presence. The air did not shimmer. The temperature did not drop. No frost traced the stone. Yet Lucas could feel the difference through the Core of Dominion, a subtle pressure beneath the surface of things, like a lake held in perfect stillness before a stone is cast.
He gave a small nod, satisfied.
"Return," he said quietly to Volde.
They ascended the ridge with measured speed, retracing their path until the forward lines of Valerion came into view once more. Soldiers adjusted straps and checked shield grips. Sergeants murmured last instructions. Nothing in their posture suggested urgency. That was intentional.
Lucas mounted his horse and rode along the split formation. His presence steadied the men more than any speech would have. Word had already spread that he carried the Core. That alone was enough to quiet fear.
