The West sector was their territory.
They had documented it, modeled it, and brutally hammered out the approach geometry over six grueling prep sessions. Every single threat they encountered on Day Three was exactly where Valerica's matrix had predicted, perfectly offset by the field layer adjustments Cael had spent two days refining. The engagements were flawlessly clean. Dav anchored their approaches with the terrifying efficiency of a tactician operating on entirely confirmed ground.
Three hours into the sweep, Cael abruptly froze.
She had been continuously reading the ambient magic as they moved, ignoring her command band entirely to let the standing wave wash directly through her senses. Stopping at a jagged ridge junction where two approach corridors converged, she pressed her bare palm flat against the cold stone and fell perfectly still.
"The third layer," she whispered.
Vane stepped up beside her. "What about it?"
