The chamber reserved for the highest council was smaller than the grand halls of Scion Hold, yet its thick walls and drawn curtains promised privacy.
The four figures seated within—the flame of the alliance itself—sat in quiet reflection before the discussion resumed.
King Alight leaned forward, his regal bearing softened by weariness.
"For now, the alliance holds. But to bind nations with such pride and power… it will be more labor than any of us anticipated."
Beside him, Linalee inclined her head, her expression calm though her eyes shone with a quiet wisdom.
"Even so, I am grateful. Grateful that none stormed out, none spat curses, none declared they would go their own way. They listened. They argued, yes—but they also yielded. They compromised. That is no small miracle."
Arasha and Kane exchanged a look before Kane spoke, his tone pragmatic.
"The miracle must be guarded. We cannot be lulled into thinking harmony will last without effort. One wrong word could unravel what we've built."
Arasha nodded, her voice steady but sharper, the voice of a commander.
"The generals are our gauge. Most of them are reasonable, pragmatic enough to meet us halfway. But Alexis…"
She let the name linger in the air.
"Alexis is the one we must monitor. His charisma is dangerous, his dominance sharper than the rest. Useful—yes. But if he pushes too far, others may follow without question."
Kane added quietly:
"The rest pose little danger, not for now. Their ambitions can be tempered. Alexis is different. He tests boundaries."
Arasha's expression softened as she continued.
"But Hiral… Hiral is unexpected. His composure, his tact—he reads a room better than many seasoned generals. His insight during our meetings steadied the waters more than once."
As her words hung in the air, Kane's mouth tightened ever so slightly. King Alight, too, frowned faintly at the repeated praise. Linalee noticed both reactions, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
She did not voice it aloud, but a quiet amusement glimmered in her gaze as she thought:
Even kings and seasoned warriors are not immune to small stings of pride and jealousy.
****
Linalee's soft chuckle broke the silence that had begun to weigh on the room. She leaned forward, resting her palms lightly against the polished table.
"Enough of frowns. We have no time to let pride sit between us. What matters now is how we take the next step. The alliance has agreed—now it is our duty to give shape to that promise."
Her voice, calm yet commanding, cut through the lingering tension like a fresh wind.
King Alight nodded, seizing the chance to move forward.
"Indeed. Talk must become action. The people are watching, waiting. We must not leave them restless."
He began listing with a practiced tone, as if he had been organizing these tasks in his mind all along.
"Kane, Arasha—you will take charge of the martial efforts. Oversee the joint combat drills, ensure our troops learn to fight not as divided banners but as one force. Patrols must be scheduled, not only in our borders but along those of our allies. And you must visit them personally, so the trust forged here is hammered stronger with each meeting."
Kane gave a firm nod.
"It will be done. We'll move swiftly."
Arasha's smile was tempered, but the glint in her eyes betrayed a commander already shaping her plans.
"The drills will be harsh, but necessary. Better sweat on the field than blood at the rifts."
Linalee's gaze turned to King Alight.
"And you and I, Alight—we must endure a different battlefield. One of ink and parchment. Logistics, funds, taxation, trade routes—all must be secured and balanced. Policies must be enforced, not merely written. And every envoy that returns must carry with them our resolve to make this alliance last."
Alight gave a weary sigh, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"A mountain of parchment in place of a mountain of stone. I almost envy Kane and Arasha their battles."
Linalee shook her head with quiet amusement.
"You won't, once you see how bloody those drills will be."
The faintest ripple of laughter passed between them, brief but grounding.
Then Linalee's tone grew serious once more.
"And we must not forget the people. Their vigilance is our greatest strength. They have proven eager to stand as eyes and ears, to keep watch over the nobles and root out whispers of betrayal. That network must be nurtured. If they feel their voices ignored, it will crumble."
Arasha folded her arms.
"The people have always been the first to pay the price. They deserve to be part of the shield that protects them."
Kane glanced at her with pride, then looked to the king.
"So it is decided. Each of us has our burdens. We must carry them without faltering."
The four leaders exchanged nods of quiet understanding. Plans would fracture, pride would clash, doubts would linger—but for now, their course was set.
The days that followed blurred into an unrelenting rhythm.
On the training fields, Kane and Arasha rode hard, their banners cutting through wind and dust.
Soldiers of different nations clashed with practice steel under their sharp eyes.
"Again!" Arasha's voice thundered across the field as two formations broke apart in disorder. "If you cannot hold the line together, you will not last against the rifts!"
Her tone was harsh, but her gaze carried a weight of expectation that drove the men to grit their teeth and fight on.
Kane moved among the troops, patient yet uncompromising.
He corrected stances, barked reminders of coordination, and quelled brewing quarrels between rival soldiers.
His presence steadied them, though sweat and frustration carved deep lines into the men's faces.
By day, they rode to neighboring kingdoms, their cloaks heavy with rain and mud. By night, they poured over maps by candlelight, eyes red from lack of rest.
Meanwhile, in the capital, King Alight and Linalee faced their own battlefield.
Scrolls, parchments, ledgers stacked like ramparts surrounded them. Diplomats and scribes came and went with endless reports—grain shortages, disputes over taxation, merchant guild complaints, requests for funds.
Alight's hand cramped around his quill as he signed decree after decree. His golden eyes, once fierce on the battlefield, now burned with weariness.
"Every compromise feels like cutting off a finger," he muttered once, as yet another petition was set before him.
Linalee bore herself with the sharp calm of tempered steel. Her words cut clean in heated debates, silencing even the most stubborn of nobles.
Yet when the hall emptied, her hands trembled faintly as she pressed them against her brow.
"We are weaving a net from slippery strings," she states wearily to Alight.
"Then we will knot it until it holds," Alight replied, though his voice carried the strain of conviction tested daily.
****
Far to the north, where snow never left the ground and the air itself bit like steel, Frosthaven stirred.
Its towering walls of pale stone rose against the endless white, a fortress long considered unassailable. Fires burned dim behind shuttered windows, their glow swallowed by the vast expanse of winter.
Inside the great keep, Duke Lionel stood upon his balcony. His breath fogged in the frigid air as he stared across the frozen plains.
The night sky above Frosthaven shimmered unnaturally. A faint crackling sound—like ice fracturing under unseen pressure—echoed in the silence.
The aurora that danced across the horizon rippled strangely, dark streaks bleeding through the green and gold light. For a heartbeat, the stars themselves seemed to flicker.
Lionel's hand tightened on the railing. His jaw clenched.
"So… it begins."
The cold wind carried no answer—only the distant howl of something that should not exist this side of the rifts.