Morning cooled the plateau just enough for the molten fissures to dim from white to dull orange. Kael scanned the bowl and spotted movement on two opposite rims.
On the northern ledge, the pale-blue robes of the Eastreach ice-magi were unmistakable. Gerrin—the senior magus who had strung those green-black-gold survey ribbons on the ridge—crouched beside an ice spindle. His apprentice, Sena, steadied a frost coil that exhaled a steady plume of white vapour. Wherever the vapour touched glass, a thin blue bridge formed and hissed, trying to hold its shape above the heat.
On the southern rise, three archers in silver-leaf cloaks loosed arrows with practised rhythm. Each shaft punched into skittering Glass-Crawlers and burst into a collar of frost that slowed them for a heartbeat. Liora Vale led them, bow already nocked for the next shot.
Two separate crews, opposite cliffs, converging on the same molten basin—and neither could cross it alone.
Kael signalled Thorn and Rei to flank him while Veyra's fox mask trotted ahead. When Gerrin noticed the Ashwin colours he straightened, spectacles fogging. "We meet again, heir of Ashwin," he said, voice raw from cold casting.
Before Kael could answer, Liora vaulted the southern berm with a low whistle. "Nice icework, scholar," she called across the trench. "Mind sharing a road?"
Kael planted the Nullglaive, point down. "Three crews, one anchor. Let's bargain."
Gerrin wiped frost from his lenses. "Our coils can lay a bridge—eight minutes stable, twelve to recharge."
Liora tapped the glyphs etched along her arrow. "We pin Crawlers, but only if someone keeps them off our flank while we draw."
Kael nodded. "We'll breach the side trenches once we're across. Trench pressure bleeds give you safer footing and keep ghosts away."
No one argued. The molten ground shivered, reminding them that time burned faster than pride.
They sketched the plan quickly: Thorn, Rei, Gerrin's apprentice Sena, and Liora's point archer would cross first to secure a foothold. Kael, Elias, Gerrin, Veyra, the mule, and Liora's rear guard followed on the next frost pulse. Varin would remain midspan with rope, ready to arrest any fall.
Gerrin drove the spindle's shaft into glowing rock. Frost shot outward in a low boom, knitting a ribbon of dull blue over the trench. Runes glimmered beneath its skin. "Clock starts," he warned, voice shaking.
Thorn went first, shield leading. Ice flexed but held. Rei coaxed the mule; the animal's hooves skidded but found purchase behind Thorn's bulk. Sena and Liora's archer followed, arrows and healing glyphs at the ready. Thirty seconds gone; the bridge sweated beads of water that skittered like quicksilver.
Kael stepped next with Elias close behind. Inside the bridge the air felt brittle and cold, the opposite of the furnace below. Veyra's fox trotted ahead, tails brushing frost to test for hairline cracks. Liora's two rear archers kept nocking arrows, scanning the red haze for movement.
Mid-span, ice groaned. A finger-wide fissure shot down its centre. Gerrin hissed and planted both palms on the spindle; coils flared brighter. Frost thickened, but a hot spot bulged up through the bridge, glowing cherry-red beneath Kael's boots.
"Hot spot under us!" Gerrin shouted. "Coil can't compensate alone."
Kael slammed the glaive's butt into the bridge and vented a short Grounded Cut. Silver sparks spread through the ice, reinforcing runes long enough for his group to hurry over the dangerous patch. They reached basalt just as a sheet of molten glass belched upward and devoured the span behind them. Gerrin staggered, spent, but Sena caught his arm.
The crossing had left them on a shallow slag-slope. Crawlers scuttled in twitchy circles where frost arrows still clung to their limbs. Thorn and Rei had cleared a half-moon of space; shards of broken carapace littered the ground. The mule brayed but stood.
Kael surveyed the terrain. Anchor Six's nearest ribs towered fifty paces off, venting steam in rhythmic bursts. Between the cohort and the ribs lay a knee-deep lava channel six metres across—too wide to jump, too hot to wade.
Elias wiped sweat from his brow. "Net's half-charged. I can throw a three-second bubble across the channel. After that, the lens is cooked until we rest."
"Three seconds," Kael echoed. "Varin, you're line marshal again."
Varin uncoiled rope, fingers trembling but controlled. He tied one end to Thorn's belt, the other to his own. "If anyone slips, we pull," he said.
Gerrin raised cracked hands. "I can frost the channel rim—buy you an extra heartbeat."
"Do it," Kael said.
Gerrin and Sena formed a quick sigil, ice blooming onto the lava's lip. Elias set rune wheels spinning; a Grav-Net bubble arced over molten rock, violet light shimmering.
"Go!" Elias barked.
Thorn barreled in, shield first; weightlessness kicked in, and he skimmed across. Kael ghosted after, guiding the mule and crates. Two seconds—filaments shivered. Liora's archers cleared with bows high. Veyra leapt last. On the third second the Net snapped; Elias hopped as the last violet shards winked out, landing belly-down on solid ground.
Steam ghosts, drawn by fresh Essentia burn, pooled out of vents. Veyra split her fox illusion into three pale copies, sending them darting among the ghosts to drag them off. Frost arrows from Liora's team harried Crawlers, buying precious moments.
Kael studied the ribs—giant tusks glowing like forge iron. Elias sketched vent geometry on glass sand. "Cut these two side trenches, pressure routes left and right, main breach fuses."
"Angles?" Kael asked.
"Thirty degrees from rib root. You'll have one pulse to sever both."
Kael hefted the Nullglaive. "Thorn shields left. Liora's point archer covers right. Gerrin freezes fissure mouths. Elias nets any rebound. I cut."
Varin fed rope behind Kael like a lifeline. "I'll lock the mule tether. If ground shifts, I pull slack."
The ground thumped—Anchor Six's pulse falling to eight slow beats. Molten light brightened the bowl, glass plates trembling like drums. There would not be many pulses left before a blowout.
Kael inhaled the furnace air, feeling Ghostline Step twitch beneath his skin—seed straining at its cage. Not yet, he told himself, laying the glaive's edge along the first trench seam.
"On my mark," he said. Thorn braced; Gerrin's coils crackled; Liora set an arrow to string; Elias closed cracked lens over one eye.
The red glow rose, plateau floor booming like a war drum. Kael felt the world go taut, as though every plate and every promise were held together by a single frayed knot.
He swung.