The council chamber stood nearly empty.
Maps of the surrounding regions still glowed across the central table, each one marked with pulsing red indicators where tears had begun to widen. Reports arrived in a constant stream—disturbances in the northern marches, refined underworld entities sighted near the eastern trade roads, structured attacks on isolated outposts. The collective strength of the full council would have been their greatest asset in containing the crisis. That option no longer existed.
They had been forced to split.
Elyndra Silverveil stood at the head of the table, silver hair catching the dim light of the remaining scrying crystals.
The decision had not been made lightly. Dividing their forces meant each member would face threats with only a fraction of the power they could have brought to bear together. Yet the alternative—allowing entire regions to fall while they remained concentrated in one place—was unacceptable.
