Portland Naval Base, Oregon — 06:47 (local time)
The first projectile landed before the alarms had time to activate.
The Independence destroyer split in two. It was not a conventional explosion: a magical energy charge pierced its hull as if it were paper. The shockwave swept through the harbor in an instant, knocking down cranes and sailors on the decks of nearby ships.
Admiral Allen Smith barely managed to hold onto the console of the Infinity's bridge. The main screen displayed thirty-two signals approaching from the east. Low altitude. Fast. Too fast.
—Who the hell is attacking us? —Smith asked as the emergency red lights began to flash.
The answer came with the second wave.
The aircraft flying over Portland were not normal aircraft. They were angular, painted black, with an eagle emblem on their sides.
The Eagle Faction.
The same organization that had attacked the Orleans mansion in Marseille. The same one the ÓBroin family believed had been destroyed eighty years ago.
—Anti-air fire! —Smith ordered—. Launch the fighters immediately!
But it was already too late.
The enemy aircraft flew over the base in tight formation, releasing electromagnetic pulse charges over hangars and runways. Military vehicles, radar systems, and communications died within seconds. The few fighters that managed to take off were shot down before they could even aim.
Smith watched as the Fitzgerald took a direct hit to the bridge. The explosion lit up the gray Oregon dawn with a violet hue.
This was not combat.
It was a massacre.
Lefebvre Family Main Base — Victoria City, Canada — 06:52
Aiden Lefebvre felt the tremor before he heard the alarms.
He was on the runway supervising when the ground shook beneath his boots. Then came the blast. Several of his soldiers fell as Hangar B collapsed.
Keeve Poirier ran up, his face covered in blood.
—We're under air attack! They're carrying the eagle symbol!
Aiden did not ask anything. There was no time. He extended his left hand and activated his mark. A blue energy shield unfolded over the runway, covering the pilots trying to reach their aircraft.
But the enemy fire was not coming only from above.
A section of the perimeter wall exploded. Through the breach came soldiers in black tactical suits wielding magical weapons. They fired with surgical precision, targeting communication towers and the magical fuel depots of the ships.
—Fall back to the north wing! —Aiden shouted—. Protect the ships!
Lissa Murray, the chief engineer, was already running toward the main hangar with a group of technicians. If they lost the ships, they would lose their ability to repel the attack.
—Damn it, wait for me! —Aiden shouted, running after her, raising barriers along the way.
A discharge grazed his shoulder. It was electrical, but his suit prevented serious injury. He reached Lissa just as an enemy soldier appeared in front of her, aiming at her head.
Aiden used his magic.
The attacker's body exploded in an instant.
—You need to get inside! —he ordered Lissa.
She obeyed without hesitation.
Aiden turned toward the hangar where his combat ship was located. His comrades were still inside, trying to take off.
Underground Base (The Nest) — Chiapas Jungle, Mexico — 07:15
Fifty meters beneath ancient vegetation and soil, a complex not listed on any civilian map awoke.
The Nest of Eagles, as it was called. It had been built by the first descendants of the Supreme Beings in the American continent, taking advantage of a ley line node beneath the Chiapas jungle. Its walls, carved from rock and covered in magical seals, glowed with a faint light. They had withstood earthquakes, wars, and five thousand years of time.
Today, for the first time in centuries, all its gates opened at once.
Victoria Aguilar walked through the central corridor with steady steps. Around her, dozens of technicians and engineers checked the systems of the ships resting in their vertical launch hangars—ships no human eye had ever seen.
The Silver Eagles.
They were not conventional aircraft. Not even standard magical ships. They were a symbiosis between ancient Supreme Being technology and the magical talent of their pilots.
But with one defining trait that had shaped their creation.
During the great war five thousand years ago, the first battle engineers discovered something: women were significantly more compatible with these ship control systems. The reason remained unknown—some spoke of a greater capacity to channel magical energy, others of a more organic connection to synchronization seals—but the fact was undeniable. On ancient battlefields, male pilots suffered three times greater magical exhaustion and their reaction times were up to forty percent slower.
Women, in contrast, flew as if the ship were an extension of their own body.
Since then, the Silver Eagles have been exclusively female. And they were about to be tested.
Victoria stopped in front of her ship's platform. A rapid assault unit with folding wings and two plasma cannons synchronized with her mark. It had been built for her when she turned sixteen, after her compatibility tests surpassed all known records.
—Miss Victoria —one of the technicians said nervously—. Surface radar detects the enemy fleet three hundred kilometers off the coast. About twenty ships. They are approaching fast.
—And the families in the United States and Canada?
—They are being attacked. They won't make it in time.
Victoria closed her eyes for a moment.
When she opened them, her expression had hardened.
She walked into her ship's cockpit. The systems activated around her, illuminating the interior with silver tones. The mark on her forearm glowed with the same intensity as the ship's circuits.
She put on her flight helmet. The visor synchronized with her eyes.
—All units —she said over the internal channel—. Take off in formation order. We will meet the Kartnod as they deserve.
One by one, the hangar doors opened in the ceiling of the facility. Morning light filtered through the gaps.
The ships began to rise.
There were not many. Only fifty.
But each carried a pilot who had trained her entire life for this moment.
Victoria was the first to emerge.
The jungle stretched beneath her, green and endless. Beyond it, the Pacific Ocean shimmered in a gray tone.
On the horizon, the angular silhouettes of the Kartnod fleet began to appear.
—Let's go, girls —she murmured.
Today, the Silver Eagles will fly toward victory.