Lyall lay in the Citadel of the Tide's infirmary. The teral stone resting on his chest was almost extinguished, its usual glow replaced by a dull opacity. The extreme use of the anchor in Ithaca had left his body depleted.
Every muscle screamed from the persistent heaviness he had imposed. A lumenarc doctor, a man with clear eyes and calm hands, examined Lyall. "Your connection to the teral is... complete. You pushed your stone beyond its limits, and your body is the first victim of this cause. If you continue this way, your own weight will crush you."
Elara was by his side, her solis stone in hand. She closed her eyes, the oracle style allowing her to read Lyall's energetic flux. "His recovery will be slow. But his heart is strong."
In the Crisis Room, the Lady of the Tide showed measured satisfaction. Espionage reports flooded in: raw nexium and selithe prices were skyrocketing in the Empire. The destruction of the Ithaca factory had sown panic and disorganization in Vane's ranks.
"Your strategy worked, Elara," the Lady declared. "Vane is in trouble."
"He is vulnerable," Elara corrected. "But not defeated. We must strike now, before he adapts."
Elara laid out her political plan. "The other Houses, especially Aerum, depend on Vane's nexium. Without that production, they are weakened. We must offer them an alternative: safe, stable trade, and a future without Vane's tyranny. This is the time to forge a coalition against him, not just for freedom, but for economic stability."
The Lady of the Tide nodded. "It is time to reveal the truth about Merikh Vane to the world. Lyall has proven that the anchor can break the yoke of his power."
Meanwhile, deep within the Empire, Merikh Vane gazed at a map. News of Ithaca's destruction had arrived. His fury was a cold, calculated determination. He was no longer facing a fugitive, but a strategist who understood the causes of his power.
"Lyall," Vane whispered. "The anchor can destroy my tools. But it cannot prevent you from being uprooted."
He summoned a man. An aelith master whose body was as light as a feather, and whose movements were as unpredictable as the wind. The man, a former hunter from Vane's elite forces, wielded the aerone stone with deadly dexterity. His style, the walzer, was the antithesis of the anchor's stability. He was the perfect countermeasure.
"Find him," Vane commanded. "Kill him if he refuses to bend. But bring me the woman. She has the eye, and she understands."
Elara returned to the infirmary, her face grim despite the diplomatic success. Lyall, slightly more alert, looked at her.
"The Lady of the Tide has agreed," she said. "The coalition will form. We have made Vane a target, Lyall. But our success has also made us priority targets. Vane can no longer afford to ignore you."
A shiver ran through Lyall. He understood. Their rest was over. The war for the fate of the kingdoms would now become a manhunt, where the anchor and the eye would be hunted by the calculated vengeance of the Empire.