Morning arrived slowly, draped in a dull grey, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Mist clung low to the ground outside the estate, curling like phantom hands around the crumbling stone walls. Inside, the warmth of last night's fire had dwindled, leaving behind a crisp, almost sacred silence.
The Council of Allies remained together.
They had only slept briefly, if at all, and now, as the first pale light spilled through the arched windows, the real work began.
Crenna was the first to the war table, maps and hastily sketched diagrams already unfurled beneath her quick hands.
Kael followed after her, dragging a heavy crate of weapons and relics from the old vaults they had uncovered below the estate.
Veyna, a shadow among shadows, murmured reports from the edges of the cities: whispers of darkness gathering, corruption blooming in forgotten corners.
Father Delran stood at the head of the table, his fingers steepled with an ancient worry and steady resolve etched into the lines of his face.
Dr. Elira Throne scribbled furiously in a worn leather journal, drafting plans for the battle medics, designing blood sigils, and outlining worst-case scenarios.
The Myrrh Twins busied themselves inscribing faint runes into the floor itself, setting up protective measures and traps ready to spring if the darkness breached their defenses.
Dusken lounged lazily atop a shelf, picking his teeth with a dagger, but his molten eyes missed nothing.
Sylen flickered in and out of sight, tracing invisible routes and escape corridors, already anticipating every dirty trick the enemy might pull out.
And at the centre of it all stood Zaire and Niah. Their presence was like gravity now. Two stars newly rekindled, pulling everyone into their orbit without a word needing to be spoken.
Zaire spread a hand over the map. "The attacks aren't random. They're strategic. They're cutting off ley lines, bleeding the world dry before they move openly."
Niah nodded, her voice steady. "We can't just defend them; we must sever their advance. Strike before they're ready."
Father Delran grunted his agreement. "Yes. We should hit them hard and fast."
Kael cracked his knuckles. "Sounds like my kind of party."
Crenna tapped a spot on the map, an ancient fortress in the dead lands to the north. "First target. They're building something there. If we don't stop it now, it'll be too late."
Elira smiled grimly. "Then we bring the storm to their door."
Veyna's shadow flickered as she whispered, "And we make sure they never see it coming."
The plan began to form, a braid of tactics, hope, and desperation.
For the first time in years, maybe decades, they weren't just reacting to the darkness. They were choosing the field. They were setting the terms. They were taking the fight back.
As the final details fell into place, Niah pressed her palm against the centre of the map. Then, in a flicker, she became Esme, and the Veil shimmered in response, its ripple of power passing through every soul present.
"We're done waiting," she murmured. "We're coming."
* * *