Alpha Alaric
The Underground Snare
Alpha Alaric pressed his helmet-mounted microphone against his lip, the sound of his own ragged breathing amplified in the sterile air of the command bunker. He could hear the faint, high-pitched harmonics of the Diamond Moon wedding song through the seismic sensors. Above him, the union of Jackson and Amethyst—the convergence that threatened his entire reign—was unfolding.
The first violent shudder hit the floor, traveling down the foundations of the Pavilion and shaking Alaric's very bunker. It was a guttural, unnatural groan of rock and metal. Alaric felt a surge of triumph; Jackson’s defense structure was finally cracking.
“Status report, Ghost Team,” Alaric commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He stood deep within the Northern Gauntlet, a w
