The first alarm did not sound in Silvarion.
It flared in a lone tower of crystal and stone on the far edge of the continent, where night still clung to the sky and the scribe on duty had fallen half-asleep over his ink.
The relay crystal above his head went from soft blue to screaming white in one heartbeat.
Light stabbed through his eyelids. He jerked upright, knocking over his inkpot. Black liquid spilled over neat ledgers as the crystal's inner runes spun at frightening speed, lines of script blooming across its surface like burning vines.
"Report… report…" he muttered, grabbing for his quill, heart hammering.
The characters on the crystal rearranged, locking at last into a single, clear message.
PRINCE-CONSORT MIKHAILIS – SILVARION DEEP-ENTRY ATTEMPT: ASHEN RIVER STATUS: REJECTED / SURVIVED CORE: INACCESSIBLE / RESISTANT
The scribe's mouth went dry. He might be no one, just a tired clerk on a poor salary, but even he understood the weight of those four lines.
