The seven-day deadline came and went with no response from the Sovereign League. Silence was their answer—they would not submit.
Now the question was when and where the Empire would strike.
"They'll want to hit all four settlements simultaneously," Kael predicted during strategy sessions. "Prevent us from reinforcing each other. That means coordinated assault across hundreds of miles of territory."
"That's an enormous logistical challenge," Garrick observed. "The Empire's strong, but coordinating attacks across that distance? It'll take months to position forces."
"Which we use to prepare further," Elion said.
The League established a unified command structure. Each settlement maintained autonomy, but military actions would be coordinated through regular communication. They developed signal systems—magical flares that could alert all settlements to attack. Evacuation protocols were established for civilians.
Most importantly, they drilled. Every scenario they could imagine—naval assault, siege, infiltration, magical attack. The shadow soldiers became proficient at defensive warfare. The militia trained until exhaustion became normal.
"We're as ready as we can be," Kael reported after six weeks of intensive preparation. "Not saying we'll win, but we'll make them bleed."
Then the scouts brought news. Imperial fleets were gathering at three major ports—one north targeting New Frost, one south aimed at the Sunscorch Emirates, and one west heading toward the archipelago. Each fleet numbered at least thirty ships carrying hundreds of soldiers.
"They're coming," Elion announced to the assembled leadership. "Multiple fleets, coordinated timing. Probably arrive within the next two weeks."
"What about the Verdant Sanctuary?" Lyssa asked.
"The eastern jungle is too difficult for naval assault. They'll probably try overland approach, but that'll take months. Yuki should be safe initially."
The communication crystals flared to life. Kira's face appeared, looking grim. "Northern scouts report Imperial fleet departed three days ago. Fifty ships, maybe two thousand soldiers. They'll be here in a week."
Rashid followed. "Southern fleet is similar size. They're not even hiding anymore—flying full Imperial colors, announcing their intent. My political enemies are using this to argue I've brought disaster to the Emirates."
"Can you hold?" Elion asked.
"If the tribes stay unified. That's the question." Rashid looked tired. "I've spent years building political consensus. Now it might shatter under pressure."
"You've got this," Kira said firmly. "You're stronger than you think."
"We all are," Elion added. "Remember—they expect us to break under pressure. When we don't, it changes everything."
The western fleet targeting the archipelago was spotted five days later by Storm Shark scouts. Forty-two ships, mixed military and transport vessels. They were taking the southern route, approaching from Imperial colonial ports.
"They'll be here in four days," Thalor reported. "We've harassed their scouts, but the main fleet is too large for us to engage directly."
Elion gathered everyone for final preparations. "This is it. Everything we've built, everything we've fought for—it's all been leading to this moment. The Empire thinks they can crush us with overwhelming force. Let's prove them wrong."
He reached out through his mental link to all shadow soldiers. Prepare for battle. Defend the settlements. Protect the people. Fight with everything we have.
The response was absolute unity. One hundred and fifty shadow soldiers across all settlements acknowledged as one.
The night before the expected attack, Elion couldn't sleep. He walked through Shadowhaven, seeing people making final preparations. Families securing belongings, fighters checking weapons, healers organizing medical supplies.
He found Mira on the beach, staring out at dark water.
"Thinking about tomorrow?" he asked, sitting beside her.
"Thinking about everything. Seven months ago, we were fleeing with nothing. Now we're about to fight an empire." She smiled slightly. "It's absurd when you think about it."
"Completely absurd. Also necessary."
"Do you think we can actually win?"
"Win? No. We're five thousand people against millions. But survive? Make it too costly for them to continue? Maybe." Elion picked up a handful of sand, letting it slip through his fingers. "That's what rebellion is—making the powerful decide their prize isn't worth the cost."
"Inspiring leadership speech," Mira said dryly.
"I'm saving the inspiring speech for tomorrow when everyone's terrified and needs it." He stood, offering his hand. "Come on. We both need rest. Tomorrow's going to be brutal."
As dawn broke, lookouts spotted sails on the horizon. Forty-two ships, arranged in battle formation, flying Imperial colors.
The alarm bells rang across Shadowhaven. People moved to their assigned positions—non-combatants to shelters, fighters to defensive positions, healers to medical stations.
Elion stood at the harbor with his command team. Shadow soldiers formed ranks along the beach. Storm Shark warriors positioned in the water. Militia manned the walls and watchtowers.
The Imperial fleet approached slowly, deliberately. They wanted to be seen, wanted the psychological impact of overwhelming numbers.
At two hundred yards, the lead ship raised a white flag. A small boat launched, carrying a single officer.
"They want to talk," Kael observed. "Last chance to surrender, probably."
"Then let's hear what they have to say."
The officer was young, nervous, clearly not enjoying this assignment. "Commander Elion Crestfall," he said formally. "I am Lieutenant Devon of the Imperial Navy. I carry a final message from Fleet Admiral Marcus Thorne."
"Speak."
"The Admiral offers terms: Surrender immediately, swear loyalty to the Empire, and bloodshed can be avoided. Your people will be treated fairly, absorbed into Imperial citizenship. Refuse, and the fleet will take the settlement by force. You have one hour to decide."
"Tell the Admiral we reject his terms. Shadowhaven stands free."
The Lieutenant paled. "Sir, that fleet carries two thousand soldiers. You can't possibly—"
"Tell. The Admiral." Elion's voice was ice. "We. Reject. His. Terms."
The Lieutenant retreated to his boat, clearly expecting to die in the coming assault.
As the boat returned to the fleet, Elion turned to his people. Time for that inspiring speech.
"I know you're scared," he called out so everyone could hear. "I'm scared too. That fleet is massive. The soldiers are trained professionals. By every conventional measure, we should surrender."
He let that sink in for a moment.
"But we're not conventional. We're refugees who crossed the impossible ocean. We're builders who created a settlement from nothing. We're warriors who've faced krakens and elementals. We're a community that's chosen freedom over submission, dignity over safety."
Elion's voice grew stronger. "The Empire thinks numbers matter most. They're wrong. What matters is will. What matters is unity. What matters is knowing what we're fighting for. They fight for conquest. We fight for home. That makes all the difference."
He raised his sword, and shadow soldiers mirrored the gesture with their dark blades. "Today we show the Empire what free people can accomplish. Today we prove that Shadowhaven is not some weak refugee camp they can crush casually. Today we stand. Together!"
The response was a roar that echoed across the settlement. Fear was still present, but it was joined by determination, by defiance, by the fierce pride of people defending what they'd built.
The Imperial fleet began its approach.
The Battle of Shadowhaven had begun.