The morning mist clung to the valley like a veil, soft and gray against the broken skyline of the Tenth-Floor City. Dew glimmered on the stone ramparts, and the faint bleating of beasts echoed through the mountain air.
Luciel didn't have to wait long.
Waldo and his men soon arrived, their boots thudding over the stone causeway, wooden crates clutched to their chests. They bowed briefly before laying the boxes open on the table — inside, the crystalline shimmer of beast spars glowed faintly, catching the dim light like embers trapped in ice.
"The seedlings you requested," Luciel said, sliding a parchment toward them.
They nodded, reverent and careful, packing the young plants into their carts as though handling relics of the gods.
As they turned to leave, Luciel called out softly, "Liyi Yi."
The woman paused, meeting his gaze.
"Go tonight," he said. "And remember — pack your things."
