Atlas pushed open the heavy iron door of the abandoned archive tower. Dust swirled up from the floor as he and Elara stepped inside.
The place had clearly been empty for decades—shelves leaned at odd angles, old scrolls lay scattered across the cracked tiles, and faint traces of old wards still flickered on the walls like dying fireflies.
It wasn't perfect, but it was stable enough for now. No fractures tearing through the walls, no immediate threats.
That lasted about thirty seconds.
Veil slipped in right behind them, her silver cloak trailing like she owned the place.
Two other Hoarders followed: a short one with too many eyes and a tall, thin figure that looked like it was made of crumpled paper. They didn't ask permission.
"Payment time," Veil said, clapping her hands once. "Alliance terms. You get our intel. We get the feed."
"What feed?" Atlas asked, already regretting the earlier deal.
