Cold river mist curled through the thick reed beds along the banks of Red-Willow Ford.
Dusk had painted the western sky in streaks of bruised purple and rust-red. Five hundred Obsidian Furnace rebels slipped out of the hidden mountain tunnels, moving like wraiths through the dense willow groves. Their weapons were wrapped in oiled cloth to muffle any accidental clatter against the rocks.
These tunnels were an engineering marvel, carved decades ago by rebel miners through the limestone roots of White-Lotus Mountain.
As they moved through the damp rock passages, Mina Vance glanced up at the reinforced stone arches.
“The mountain feels remarkably stable,” Mina whispered to Sera. “Even with five thousand ducal troops marching on the outer roads, the earth here doesn’t shudder.”
“That’s Master Vance’s presence,” Sera murmured back, adjusting the leather sling of her Storm-Pike. “His passive accumulation anchors the ambient spiritual veins of the entire range. When a man achieves absolute stillness, the mountain itself settles into the same tranquility.”
Leading the advance, Princess Valeria and Sera Thorne knelt beneath the drooping branches of an ancient willow tree near the tunnel mouth.
Beside them stood Mina Vance, her breath rising in thin white plumes. Her cool eyes watched the broad, shallow bend of the Red-Iron River where the current slowed over vast sandbars of fine silt and smooth river stones.
