The summit chamber was colder the next morning. Not in temperature, but in posture. Kade didn’t need a weather gauge to know the accusations from the previous day still hung in the air. Probably didn’t help that half the room had nearly been outed for trying to steal the artifact. No one enjoyed having their secrets named out loud, especially by someone who hadn’t bothered to whisper.

  Sunlight pushed through the eastern haze, casting dull reflections off the reinforced windows, but it didn’t warm the room. The conference table remained at the center, unchanged, though the surrounding chairs had shifted subtly, angled just enough to suggest distrust rather than design.

  Kade stood behind Captain Voss, her stance still, her eyes on the artifact resting at the center of the table. The casing was unmarked, sealed, but the pressure it gave off remained unmistakable. A kind of static tension that didn’t belong in the real world. Not anymore.

  Across the table, Callan had brought paperwork, neatly sorted into labeled sections, as if he still believed bureaucracy could solve collapse. Haskett hadn’t sat yet, hands planted on the back of his chair, weight forward like a man ready to shove the table aside if the conversation didn’t go his way. Mireya’s orb floated in a slow, deliberate orbit, pulsing whenever someone’s gaze lingered too long. She didn’t acknowledge it. She didn’t need to.

  Captain Voss spoke first, his voice level, worn smooth by years of command.

  "We’re reconvened. You all know why."

  No one disagreed. They just nodded, some more reluctant than others.

  Callan cleared his throat with the habit of someone used to opening meetings, not surviving them.

  "The Restoration Council feels that due to the blatantly false accusations leveled yesterday. The artifact cannot remain aboard the Horizon Talon."

  It wasn’t a demand, not quite. Just a statement with its teeth filed down.

  Haskett followed a beat later, leaning slightly forward, tone casual in the way explosives could be casual when handled wrong.

  "Can’t argue that. Looks bad. A high-value relic sitting on a ship that is supposedly neutral, but after the events of yesterday, it clearly isn't impartial. One meeting, or one well-placed lie, and the whole thing vanishes over the horizon. No offense, Captain."

  Voss didn’t flinch. He didn’t need to defend the Talon. That wasn’t the point.

  Callan pressed on when no one countered his argument.

  "It’s not just about optics. It’s risk concentration. We’re talking about an object that may serve as the cornerstone for a future safe zone. That means its loss, or perceived misuse, could collapse trust between factions entirely."

  The word lingered longer than it should have. Collapse.

  Mireya chose that moment to speak, her voice even, clinical.

  "There’s a viable alternative. A regional bank. Seven blocks east of the ferry line. Reinforced concrete shell, functional vault, limited access points. Structural integrity confirmed. It was built to resist physical breach, not electronic theft."

  She placed a stack of floor plans on the table, including diagrams and photos printed in grayscale, annotations in tidy block script. She didn’t hand them out.

  Kade couldn’t stop a dismissive snort, which earned her a sharp look from the Captain. Mireya hadn’t stumbled onto that information. There was no chance of that. She’d been carrying it from the start, waiting for the moment when the Horizon Talon’s neutrality took a hit and she could slide her solution onto the table. Mireya was scheming something, and Kade was certain of it. The fact that Mireya just happened to have floor plans available sealed it.

  Callan nodded, tapping the edge of one page.

  "Secure. Central. Neutral-adjacent. That’s... acceptable."

  Haskett finally took his seat but didn’t relax into it.

  "She’s right about the structure. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still haven’t agreed on the safe zone’s core location. You start putting high-value assets in one corner of the map, and you’re making decisions before anyone agrees."

  He was right. That was the game, after all. Control of the safe zone.

  Callan smoothed his notes but didn’t look away.

  "The bank isn't just defensible. It’s symbolic. Civil infrastructure, repurposed. A sign that order can return."

  Of course, it was about symbolism for him. Order wrapped in marble and paperwork.

  Haskett didn’t take the bait.

  "There’s plenty of usable space near the docks. You know, places that still matter. Supply lines, fuel storage, food distribution. The real engine that keeps people alive. But sure, let’s pick the nearest flagpole and pretend it can do the job."

  Mireya’s voice remained calm.

  "The Ebonwake is comfortable holding the artifact at the bank, but we reserve judgment on the safe zone until leadership is resolved. The college campus remains a more viable long-term solution for research continuity and magical integration."

  Of course she steered it there. It wasn’t about infrastructure. It was about the control of knowledge.

  Haskett sat forward.

  "So you’d rather hide behind lecture halls while the rest of us freeze or starve. Got it."

  "I'm suggesting civilization requires more than shipping containers and fish," Mireya said.

  The orb at her shoulder rose slightly, casting a thin halo of light across the center of the table.

  Then Voss stood.

  The shift in energy was immediate. Words froze mid-form. Everyone turned.

  "We’ll mark the bank as an interim custody site," he said. "Secure the artifact there. Nothing more."

  He met each of their eyes in turn and waited for objections.

  None came.

  Callan gave a small nod, more ceremonial as if to claim credit for the decision than sincere.

  Haskett muttered something under his breath, but didn’t push.

  Mireya gave no indication at all, only that quiet shimmer of satisfaction she never tried to hide.

  Voss sat.

  They accepted the bank with barely a murmur. No one stormed out, no one threw up a serious counterproposal, not even a sarcastic jab about jurisdiction. Haskett gave a token objection, sure, but even that fell away with a nod.

  Kade watched the quiet compliance unfold, as if they had all been looking for a way to get the artifact out of the Talon's hands independently and somehow stumbled onto a mutually agreeable solution.

  These people couldn’t agree on what was for lunch yesterday. Now they were aligning on artifact custody as if it had been obvious all along?

  She didn’t trust it, but she also would not let them fail either, just to prove her point.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  If the Talon had proposed it, they’d still be arguing. Mireya offers it, and suddenly it’s gospel? Kade didn’t know what move had just been made, but it wasn’t hers, and that meant someone else was winning the board.

  "The transfer happens today. Your liaisons will confirm containment on-site. Each of you will present safe zone proposals. Until then, keep your people calm."

  The meeting rolled on, voices turning to logistics, site assessments, and arguments over control of the proposed safe zone, but Kade let her attention drift for a beat. Just long enough to study the artifact in its steel shell and the careful space everyone kept around it. Let them glare at the Talon. Let them whisper about neutrality and control. If it bought time, fine.

  But she knew better than to mistake coordination for trust. These people weren’t allies. They’d just found a convenient target.

  Someone would break first.

  And when they did, it wouldn’t be with a vote.

  It’d be with a knife in the back.

  Kade watched them act as if they were people playing pretend leaders and wondered if any of them actually deserved the title. They weren’t trying to build something. They were just trying to win. The safe zone might survive, but only in spite of the people arguing over it. You couldn’t help those who refused to help each other.

  The Talon still had a job to do. The rest of the SMC was out there somewhere, and Naomi hadn’t vanished. Eventually, that particular storm would make landfall.

  Then the door opened, shaking Kade from her morose.

  A runner entered, damp with sweat despite the chill, his steps quick but controlled. He passed a folded page to a nearby aide, who read it once, stiffened, and brought it to the head of the table without a word.

  Haskett read it in silence, eyes narrowing as he reached the end. He scanned it again, slower, then set it down.

  "Report from our southern scouts," he said. "There appear to be multiple locations where undead are massing. They might be heading north."

  Chairs shifted. The atmosphere, already taut, drew tighter.

  Callan was the first to move, stepping to the map on the side wall with a purpose that made the others follow. Kade stayed behind them, watching their reactions. It was a mixture of fear layered under ego edging into alarm.

  Haskett pressed a finger to the southern edge of the city schematic.

  "Floodwall Five. Still intact, but it’s the only barrier between that swarm and all three of our faction hubs. If they cross here, we’re exposed."

  Callan didn’t flinch. "The Restoration compound has reinforced gates."

  "Against looters and random monster attacks, maybe. These aren’t looters."

  Mireya stepped closer to the map, her orb still drifting in a wide arc above her shoulder, like a persistent annoying pest.

  "The data isn’t conclusive. The movement may be tied to a localized event or biome trigger. We saw similar behavior in the graveyard. Proximity doesn’t confirm intent."

  "It confirms the risk," Haskett said. "And I will not sit on my hands waiting for a ‘simulation pattern’ to flatten half the district. We’re deploying to the wall."

  Callan turned fully, arms crossed, voice clipped. "You’re not the only force here."

  "No," Haskett said, "just the one willing to act."

  "The Restoration Council is the legitimate government. We will coordinate our response accordingly."

  "You’ll coordinate from a bunker like you did during the opening days."

  Kade expected the air to crack into a shouting match. Instead, you could have heard a pin drop in the silence.

  Mireya folded her hands behind her back. "There’s no evidence the undead are targeting faction centers. This may still result in ambient simulation behavior. Unless we have a direct trigger, this feels premature."

  "You wait long enough for a trigger," Haskett said, "and what you get is a funeral."

  As if to punctuate Haskett's point, a message from the Simulation ratcheted up the tension.

  [World Event] Congratulations, players of the North-East Region! You have gained the attention of the undead forces' sub-commanders. Defeat the sub-commanders to summon the regional boss.

  Good luck, players.

  Beware! Undead intensity has increased.

  The words hung there for a breath, then faded like fog, leaving only the silence behind.

  Callan broke first. He straightened abruptly, turning away from the map, fingers twitching as if to reach for something, anything, just to keep his hands busy. The smile he’d been wearing earlier was gone, replaced with the pinched look of someone who’d just realized there might be an actual emergency and he'd be asked to make a decision.

  Haskett cursed under his breath, the sound clipped and low. His hand was already at the map again, tracing a route south before catching himself. He didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. The tightness in his shoulders said enough.

  Mireya didn’t move.

  Her orb rotated once in midair, emitting a soft tone that almost harmonized with the one that had preceded the message. She tilted her head slightly, eyes fixed on the space where the words had just hung, as if she was still reading them, or seeing something no one else could.

  There were no surprises on her face. Just a kind of quiet confirmation.

  Kade watched her a moment longer before reaching the conclusion that either Mireya was very good at hiding fear, or she’d expected this.

  Kade didn’t say it aloud, she'd already caused enough problems with her accusations yesterday. However, she didn’t need to. Mireya’s posture said everything her faction wouldn’t.

  Captain Voss stepped in.

  "It is my recommendation that both the Tidebound Front and the Restoration Council deploy. The wall is too long for one force to cover alone. If the threat escalates, you’ll be holding it together or not at all."

  Neither Callan nor Mireya responded immediately. Haskett’s jaw shifted, but he gave a curt nod.

  Kade remained quiet at the fringe, watching the three faction leaders position themselves as the potential saviors of the region. The Front would dig in and claim the outer edge. The Council would position its people like diplomats with weapons, making sure no one forgot who had the right to issue orders. And when the first actual decision had to be made, when retreat or reinforcement hung in the balance, the two chains of command would snap in opposite directions.

  She could already see the shape of it. Delays, mixed signals, turf fights disguised as tactical calls in the middle of combat. And maybe a stray shot that no one quite took responsibility for.

  By the end of the yelling match, the command hierarchy remained untouched. Safe zone leadership hadn’t been addressed. And the artifact still sat in limbo other than the fact that it would be moved to the bank and guarded by members from all three factions. It was a symbol none of them trusted each other to hold.

  Several comments had stood out in the conversation over the flood wall defense.

  "The Restoration Council will commit a forward team to support operations at the wall. Our resources will be allocated according to strategic necessity."

  Which Kade translated silently meant where they could be seen helping, without actually helping anyone else.

  Haskett folded his arms. "The Front doesn’t need oversight. We’ll deploy independently and reinforce as needed."

  Meaning we’ll take credit if we win and blame the rest of you if we don’t.

  Mireya didn’t offer a deployment plan. She just observed, face calm, orb pulsing faintly in time with her breath. If she were planning to send anyone, it would be researchers with escorts, and they wouldn’t be on the front line.

  Then the trap closed.

  "We’d also like the Horizon Talon to support our forces in clearing the final safe zone locations," Callan said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Their firepower could be decisive in securing a swift resolution."

  Before Voss could respond, Haskett added his voice.

  "The Front requests the same. Talon personnel would make for a solid reserve element."

  Kade felt the political blows land before the silence even had time to stretch. There was no real coordination between them. Just shared instinct that there was blood in the water and a ship off balance.

  She had handed them the excuse the day before. Her outburst, her accusations, her refusal to play politics. Now they were doing exactly what she would have done in their place.

  Take the piece off the board.

  Soften it first with praise. Make the Talon seem critical to success. Force them into picking a side without looking like they were being forced into picking a side.

  Captain Voss didn’t move right away. When he spoke, his voice carried with the same calm as before, but Kade could feel the tension in his stillness.

  "No."

  The single word took the air out of the room. This wasn't the way the political game was supposed to be played.

  "If this is a joint task force," he continued, "the Talon stands ready to assist. If they are two independent deployments with no shared command structure, then we remain neutral. We will not serve one faction against another. Especially not on the same objective."

  Callan’s face shifted just enough to show the crack. "That seems short-sighted, Captain."

  Voss met his gaze evenly. "Earlier, you questioned our neutrality. Now you're requesting our support in a partisan operation. We’ll assist only if it's a true joint tasking. Nothing less."

  Haskett exhaled, not quite a sigh. "Your call, Captain."

  There was no argument after that, but the damage had already been done.

  The message was clear. The Horizon Talon would be no one’s hammer. Not today.

  The meeting began to fragment as the representatives continued to tread over ground already covered. There wasn't a formal close to the meeting, but the slow bleed of movement as people gathered their notes, whispered to aides, and left in pairs.

  Kade remained by the wall map, watching the pieces slide into motion. Squads would start moving within the hour. Wagons, patrols, token gestures of readiness. It would be an activity that looked like preparation if you didn’t look too closely.

  Her eyes traced the same path Haskett’s hand had slammed earlier, south to north, wall to compound, past the lines they hadn’t drawn yet but would bleed over soon.

  No one had resolved anything, but the wheels were already spinning.

  The wall would be manned. The artifact would be stored. The contested zones would be cleared. All without agreement on what happened afterwards.

  What she needed now was a plan for what happened after that failure.

  She kept her thoughts to herselfkept her thoughts to herself as thought about the situation. She couldn't say anything. There was no point in adding fuel to the fire by voicing her thoughts. Not with the Restoration Council and the Tidebound Front still unified in pretending the Talon didn’t belong at the table. But the moment their alliance turned into blame, they’d be looking for someone to save the day.

  And Kade had every intention of being ready when that moment came.

  All the faction representatives' conversations were momentum pretending to be progress. And momentum without strategy was just drift. They were heading straight into a storm they didn’t see coming.

  The next few hours wouldn’t be tense. There would be blood and smoke and too many voices shouting the wrong orders at once.