The talisman's light faded, and the world reshaped around them. The sharp winds of Frosthaven were replaced by the mild air of the capital, tinged with the scents of spiced bread and roasted meat drifting from the markets nearby.
Arasha drew in a slow breath, shoulders relaxing despite herself. Kane's eyes swept the scene, calculating, noting the differences that leapt out at once.
Here, the streets were alive with motion—not frantic, not desperate, but steady. Merchants called to one another, not with cutthroat bargaining, but with open sharing of news and wares.
One vendor passed a basket of fresh apples to another whose stall had run empty, and a boy dashed off grinning to deliver it. Guards patrolled not only with weapons ready but also with open hands, helping an old woman balance her basket, directing a lost traveler with patience rather than disdain.
Tension lingered—an undercurrent none could deny—but it was tempered by laughter that rang clear as children darted through the crowd, their games unsullied by fear.
Women leaned out of windows to gossip and wave. Men paused their work to share news of the harvest or the arrival of new shipments.
This was no utopia, but it was a city holding itself together not with grim willpower alone, but with trust and care.
Arasha slowed for a moment, eyes lingering on a pair of guards helping to repair a broken cart while the merchant wiped his brow in gratitude. Kane, watching her, said nothing, but the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed his own thoughts.
The memory of Frosthaven pressed on them both—bloodied men in the snow, families mourning, walls being mended with trembling hands. Desperation there.
Here, tense but collected and still standing strong.
Arasha's hand clenched at her side. We can't let any nation, any part of this continent, fall to that same despair. We have to. We need to.
Arasha took a deep breath and relaxed her clenched fists.
Kane gave a small nod, as if he had plucked the very thought from her. "Come," he said, voice quiet but firm. "They need to hear what we've seen."
Resolve hardened in both their eyes. Without further delay, they quickened their pace, weaving through the streets toward the castle gates where King Alight and Linalee awaited them.
****
The great council chamber echoed with voices, not in harmony, but in discord.
A long oaken table stretched beneath banners of each allied nation, the flicker of torches casting shadows across the strained faces of its leaders.
"They mimicked formations," one stout lord barked, slamming his palm against the table hard enough to rattle the goblets. "Do you not see? This is no longer beasts clawing in the dark—it is war, organized and cunning. If they spread beyond Frosthaven, what then? Our border towns will be crushed before we can even send aid!"
Another, draped in silks that did little to hide the sweat beading on his brow, snapped back, "Easy to demand answers when your coffers are full, while our men bleed on half rations! You expect us to fortify without proper support? Then who is the true enemy here—riftspawn, or the arrogance of the wealthy?"
Shouts rippled across the table.
"Resources must go to alchemy—potions and talismans! No army will stand without them!"
"Alchemy won't matter if we have no soldiers left alive to drink your brews—invest in manpower!"
"Manpower won't matter if our commanders lack the tactics to fight monsters that think!"
"And who among us has commanders trained for such anomalies? Do you?"
The chamber swelled with overlapping voices, fingers pointed, voices raised, the air thick with fear disguised as pride. The steady attempts of the heralds to maintain order were drowned by the escalating noise.
At the head of the table, King Alight raised a hand, his voice carrying above the clamor, regal yet strained.
"Enough."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then another voice cut across, sharp and distrustful: "With respect, Your Majesty, you say 'enough,' yet what do you offer us? If Frosthaven has fallen to creatures who think, what is to stop them from walking into our capitals next?"
The silence shattered into renewed fury, voices rising hotter than before.
Archmage Linalee leaned forward her voice calm but taut with steel.
"You are chasing phantoms when truth is what we need. Imaginary threats solve nothing. We do not even yet know the true extent of what has emerged in Frosthaven. Fear will only widen the rift among us before the rifts themselves do."
But her words were swallowed by the storm. Leaders leaned across the table, shouting, some nearly nose-to-nose. Others muttered bitterly under their breath, fists tightening on the arms of their chairs.
The chamber teetered on the edge of riot.
And then—
The great doors opened with a groan.
A servant stepped inside, bowing deeply, his voice humble but cutting through the din like a bell:
"Your Majesties… Lords, Ladies… Commander Arasha and Kane, have arrived from Frosthaven."
The chamber stilled, all eyes swiveling toward the entrance.
For a moment, silence hung heavy after the servant's announcement. Then the chamber erupted again, but this time in a different tone.
"Finally," one lord exhaled in relief, slumping back into his chair as if salvation had just walked through the door.
Another narrowed his eyes, lips curled in disdain. "So the famed Scion Order does exist beyond stories. Let us see if they are worth the coin and reverence whispered about them."
A queen, slender and sharp-eyed, leaned forward with calculating poise.
"If they truly fought alongside Frosthaven, then they know what we face. Knowledge is power—and power is not given freely."
A younger noble, fists white-knuckled on the table, blurted, "And if they lie? If they come here to mask Frosthaven's fall with half-truths? How do we know they haven't already bent knee to the riftspawn?"
Murmurs flared, suspicion mingling with fragile hope.
The heavy doors opened wider, and Kane and Arasha stepped inside, their travel-worn cloaks stirring faintly as if they carried the frost of the north still clinging to their shoulders.
Arasha's gaze swept the chamber once, steady, unflinching, before she bowed. Kane, eyes sharp, spared little courtesy, his voice cutting straight into the air before the lords could spiral further.
"Frosthaven stands," Kane said, firm and unyielding. "Because its people did not break—and because we did not allow it to fall. Do not twist truths you have not seen."
Arasha stepped forward, her tone measured but carrying weight that settled into every ear.
"What you have heard is only the surface. The riftspawn we faced were unlike the beasts you know. They moved in formation. They planned. One among them commanded the others. This was no accident, no wild surge—it was intent."
The room shifted. Relief soured into dread. Even the arrogant sat straighter.
Kane continued, his tone edged but precise. "The rift itself bore a barrier. Breaking it cost us dearly, and closing it nearly crushed us with pressure. That it took such force to seal should be proof enough that these are not the same foes of years past. Frosthaven was a warning."
A queen's jeweled fingers tapped her goblet, the sound sharp against the sudden hush. "If your words are true, then this changes everything. No fortress stands if intelligence guides these monsters. With power and wisdom, they become truly a formidable foe. "
"Yes," Arasha agreed, her eyes sweeping the chamber. "Which is why bickering over alchemy, tactics, or coin alone will not save you. We need all of it. We need unity. The network must not only reach further, but faster. Talismans, potions, fortifications, trained commanders—you will need them all."
The words cut through arrogance, through suspicion, through fear. The storm of voices that had once overlapped now narrowed, sharpened.
"What measures can be advanced without straining supply?"
"Where can fortifications be doubled without weakening other borders?"
"How quickly can the mage union and alchemist circle deliver more talismans and potions?"
"If the humanoid riftspawn appear elsewhere, how do we signal it across the network?"
The air no longer roiled with discord. It thrummed with tense union, a single chord pulled taut by shared necessity.
King Alight leaned back in his chair, studying the council with a faint, tired but resolute smile.
"Then we have our course. Fear alone has no place here. Preparation does. If Frosthaven stands, then so will we."