High above the oceanic ridge, the oppressive golden light of the Clover Council began to dim.
Grand Archmage Vane stood at the edge of the ruined upper sanctuary, his long silver hair whipping in the thermal drafts created by the cooling sea-stone. Around him, the remaining five Archmages gathered in a disciplined semicircle, their grand staves resting against the shattered floor.
"The core signature has faded into the outer trenches," Archmage Moros reported, his grey robes fluttering as he read the fading mana-traces in the water. "Sovereign Seraphina, the pureblood, and the shadow user have boarded the Duchess's private transport. They are already past our outer perimeter lines."
"Shall we mobilize the sixth fleet for pursuit?" Archmage Solon asked, his plasma staff humming with eager heat. "A concentrated orbital strike on the outer reefs will incinerate their vessel before they hit deep water."
Vane raised a single, pale hand, silencing the giant warrior.
