The message arrived at dusk. A road-watch runner came hard down the final stretch to the outer gate, his horse white with foam and his left arm bound in a blood-stained sling that had already soaked through twice.
The man half-fell from the saddle as the animal staggered to a stop. Selene reached him before the gate guards did. She pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, found the thin, rapid pulse, and called for a healer in a voice that carried across the yard.
The sealed tube was still clenched in his good hand. Black wax. Eastern post mark. Aiden took it from him without a word and carried it straight to the strategy hall.
Elizabeth broke the seal herself. The letter inside was short, the handwriting uneven:
*Eastern fault line opened at the Broken Mile. Three watch-towers gone. Creatures coming through the cracks—scaled, fast, not of this realm. Lost twelve men. Need strong power on site. Send no one soft.*
