Without delay, Kaelen Vance laid the blood-wax parchment flat on the map table and tapped his teacup against the corner.
The ink was still dark and oily. The diagrams showed five thousand captives shoved into soul-furnaces daily, their vitality ignited to power the orbital Star-Array.
“Five thousand people,” Sera Thorne said, her fingers tightening around her spear shaft until the knuckles turned white. “Men, women, and low-rank cultivators dragged from coastal hamlets. They are burning them like firewood to speed up that sky-cannon.”
Claire Vance leaned over the table, her silver-streaked hair catching the lantern light.
“The Blood-Star Salt Docks sit twenty miles down the southern coast,” Claire said softly. “Three thousand garrison troops guard the slips. And worse, the entire cove is covered by a Saint-grade detection dome.”
Mina Vance crossed her arms, her icy aura chilling the tea steam into frost.
“We have seventy-four warships now,” Mina said, looking directly at her brother. “We can sail into the bay and blast those docks to kindling before dusk.”
Kaelen took a slow, deliberate sip of his lukewarm jasmine tea.
