The war room had become Liam's second home.
Maps covered every surface—tactical projections, supply routes, defensive positions, intelligence reports that updated daily with information from sources he was still learning to track.
Colored markers represented demon forces, red pins showed Radiant Empire strongholds, and an ominous cluster of black markers indicated Sanctum Lux itself.
One month.
Thirty days until seven legion commanders, forty-three brigade commanders, and approximately two hundred thousand demon soldiers began the march that would either save the empire or end it.
Thirty days to finalize strategy that currently had more holes than certainty.
"The logistics are nightmare," Commander Torven said, his finger tracing supply routes on the main map.
He'd recovered from the Malzeth execution—mostly—and had thrown himself into operational planning with intensity that suggested he needed purpose to avoid processing trauma.
