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“Ruthless,” Nevik adds, voice lower now. “But rigid. He favors structure. Predictable threats he handles. The rest …” A small shake of his head.

It’s the silence that tells me they’re waiting for my response. I lift my head, sweeping my gaze over everyone gathered around the table. “How would they monitor a place like the tower?”

Galern glances toward me before answering. “Standard patrols. Even in uninhabited regions. Routine sweeps. They’ve kept them up since the purges. Not magical. Just thorough.”

“And if a patrol found it?”

Isara folds her hands. “The report would climb. From patrol to overseer. Overseer to Drayeth. Then to Sereven. Each level requires verification. Each slows their response.”

Varam speaks last. “That delay buys us some time.”

“What are the current operations here?” I change the subject. I can’t do anything about Sereven right now. That’s a problem for another day.

“Intelligence gathering,” Varam says. “Tracking movements. Logging abuses. Marking where they’re weakest.”

“Rescue efforts,” Isara adds. “When we can reach those targeted before they vanish.”

“Preserving what they would erase,” says Rera. “Records. Teachings. Histories.”

“Disrupting supply chains,” Ferrin offers. “Quietly. Nothing they can trace back. But it starves their strongholds and feeds the ones they’ve left to die.”

“No direct confrontation?”

“Not if we can avoid it.”

“You said you used coded phrases and birds for communication?”

“Layered systems,” Varam replies. “Traders carry coded messages. Signal fires in the hills. Etchings in public stone, meant only for those who know how to read them.”

“Losses?”

His jaw tightens. “Too many. If one is caught, it risks everyone they know. So we share as little as we can. Enough to keep the knots alive. Nothing more.”

“That will change. My powers are returning. As they do, we will reclaim tools the Authority cannot track. There are still paths they do not know how to close.”

Silence falls, then Damen straightens.

“Is it true you once moved an entire group through shadow?” he asks. “When the Authority had them surrounded?”

“Forty-nine people. From Thornevale to the Salt Fens. One night.”

The younger fighters lean forward. Those who weren’t there. Those who’ve only heard the stories.

They don’t see a man. They see a weapon. A turning point. And for the first time, they believe it might be enough.

By mid-afternoon, most of the gathered Veinwardens have departed, returning to their positions throughout Ravencross and the surrounding areas where they have built ordinary lives as cover. They leave through different exits at staggered intervals, operational security kept through habits developed over years.

Only Varam and two others are still with me whenthe door opens, announcing Ellie and Mira’s return. They go through to the adjoining room to continue the lessons.

“She’s unusual,” Varam says in a low voice, eyes lingering on the door where Ellie disappeared. “How was she able to help you escape when no one else could?”

“Her abilities seem unconscious rather than deliberate.”

“You really believe she has no awareness of her capabilities?” Skepticism coats his voice.

“Limited awareness at most. Her potential remains undetermined.”

“Could her abilities be useful against the Authority?” Varam’s mind is already calculating potential advantages.