The war council reconvened at dawn.
Theron had already deployed his operatives. Six agents, cloaked in grey, had slipped across the border before first light. Their mission: infiltrate Thorne's camp, identify the targets, and strike within seventy-two hours.
Seren had not slept.
She stood at the map table, her hands flat on the parchment, her eyes red-rimmed but sharp. Aeron watched her with concern. Kael had returned from the north just an hour ago, still in his travel-stained armour. Elowen lounged in a chair, pretending indifference.
"We're doing this wrong," Seren said.
Theron looked up from his notes. "The operation is already in motion."
"Then recall it."
"I will not."
Seren straightened. "I'm not asking you to stop the assassinations. I'm asking you to *add* to them. Because killing Thorne's leadership won't be enough."
Kael frowned. "You said yourself, remove the head, the body dies."
