"Correct."
"Toward Ashenveil. To shatter the artifact before it secures itself within Aria."
"Correct."
Vael remained completely motionless.
She functioned as the administrator of Ashenveil. She wore the metallic links at her throat. She commanded a domain populated by forty Lycans, an aerial combat unit, a defensive boundary to the east, and a relative by marriage five hundred miles south sustaining the existence of the world from a seat of power. Now, the individual who had been manipulating the narrative for two continuous years was traveling toward the north personally, intending to complete the destruction that the vakhar had proven unable to accomplish.
Vael recognized a sensation anchoring itself within her ribs.
It lacked any element of panic.
It manifested as the frigid, fo
