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Except for me.

“But you continued to fight. Even after the Veinbloods were eliminated. Even when you believed I was dead.Why?”

“Because the Authority didn’t stop with Veinbloods.” Varam’s voice is hard. “Once that threat was eliminated, they expanded their definition of enemies to include anyone who questioned their control.”

“Scholars preserving old knowledge,” offers one fighter.

“Communities that valued independence,” adds another.

“Anyone who remembered how things were before,” says a third.

Isara rests her hands on the table and leans forward. “They created categories of citizenship. Those demonstrating proper loyalty received privileges. Better food, preferential treatment, eligibility for positions of influence. Those who didn’t found themselves increasingly restricted.”

“Food rationing based on compliance scores,” Galern adds, his voice thick with contempt. “Children separated from parents deemed a danger to the Authority. Communities taxed into starvation while settlement overseers built grander headquarters.”

“So we evolved,” Varam takes over again. “Different victims, same enemy.”

Damen slams his fist on the table, causing maps to shift and cups to rattle.

“And now everything will change.” His eyes burn as he turns them on me. “With the Vareth’el returned, we can finally strike directly. No more hiding, no more small victories that change nothing. We should attack their command in Ashenvale. Burn them out of the Spire, and show them their supposed victory was temporary!”

The room falls silent, tension crackling like static before a storm.

They’re all watching me.

The ones who fought beside me before are bracing for the flashpoint. They remember the man who would have answered fury with fire. Who would have surged to his feet, shadows rising, voice cutting like a blade, and turned that table into a battleground of will.They’re waiting for the arrogance. The certainty. The untempered heat of a man who never walked away from a challenge.

But I don’t move.

I let the silence stretch. Let the tension build.

I was quick to temper once. Quick to speak. Quicker still to command, to scorch doubt with pride. But time reshapes what fire does not burn away. What’s left in me now is quieter. Sharper. Cold-edged and honed for maximum impact.

I look at Damen, who meets my eyes. I release my grip slightly on the void, letting my eyes fill with the twin powers that flow through me. His gaze falters. Only when he drops his eyes, do I speak.

“I feel it too.” My voice is soft. “Twenty-seven years taken, while the world turned without me. But if we act without knowing, we forfeit the advantage my return has given us.”

He draws breath to speak, but I raise one hand. Shadows dance across my fingers. His gaze jumps to them, up to my face, and then back down to the table.

“We do not know how much the Authority suspects. Yes, the tower is gone. But until they confirm what happened, they hesitate. And that hesitation is time we use, or lose. I did not endure confinement to lead those who remain into slaughter.”

“Lord Torran is right,” Varam says, firm and without apology. “Caution isn’t cowardice. It’s what kept us alive this long.”

But Damen doesn’t retreat. “And what has it won us? We trade messages in the dark while they build fortresses in the open. They control the cities. We keep finding new places to hide. We say we fight, but we cower like mice. How long can we keep hiding?”

I study him. He’s enthusiastic. Full of fire. Shaped more by stories than scars. He wants to act, not because it’s wise, but because it feels like action.

“How many trained fighters do we have?”

“Three hundred,” he replies, still standing straight, though I see the stiffness in his posture now. He doesn’t look up.

“And how many elite soldiers form the Authority’s army?”

“Two thousand.”

“How many are in Ashenvale?”

“A full company. Nearly two hundred.”