What some people - especially nobles - didn't know was that humans were only one of the sentient races on Helios. They never ventured very far beyond the high spire, at the center of Tan'thalon. Shyra Vollten's tower was located at the far eastern side, standing defiantly in the city's skyline like a great beacon. Inside, the data analyst was ever busy. Even when a Lazulli node in the center of the thrumming, technology filled room she occupied activated, she continued her fervent manipulation of her machines, moving holographic display after holograph display.
The node glowed softly, threads of light expanding like woven strands of crystal lattice. Within the glow, holographic forms took shape—Maranth's stern figure, Veyra's measured poise—each projected with sharp clarity in the chamber.
High Councilor Maranth did not speak immediately. He first observed the Haitreh, which was what Shyra was. She moved fast on four digitigrade legs, light and agile. Above the frame rose a human-like torso, feverishly busy as she ordained her displays. The delicate interface on her fingers and the tendrils extending from her skull glowing faintly as she did. Her elongated neck turned, her inquisitive eyes now locking on the councilors. She stepped closer into the light, revealing a blueish skin, and soft luminescent patterns under the skin of her face and skull.When she spoke, her tone had harmonious undertone, natural to her species.
"Counselors. I have been expecting you".
"Then you already know what we want to ask" Maranth spoke with authority, but his tone was softer. He for one appreciated the alien data analyst.
"Indeed. As of last night, the desert has consumed the village of Kareth. That is the third settlement lost in twenty-two days. The rate of encroachment is accelerating—what once advanced a mile a season now advances nearly half a mile each month." Shyra was never known to dwindle, instead focussing on efficiency and numbers.
"Impossible. The desert shifts with storms, not with purpose." Maranth's expression turned to a frown, accentuated by his age.
"Not impossible. Measured. Haitreh observers have maintained climate records for three centuries. The variance here is far beyond natural cycles." Shyra didn't even look up from her displays, though her usual harmonious voice had a hint of sharpness to it.
"Then what drives it, Analyst? Mere chance—or the will of something greater?" Veyra leaned in closer, calm but pointed.
"Our data shows correlation between the desert's movements and reports of Ba'ham's cult activity. Where they gather, the sands quicken. Where they are rooted out, the advance stalls—if only briefly." As she spoke, Shyra showed a display of glowing points representing villages going out one by one.
"So it is war after all. Not of steel, but of whispers." Maranth stroked his beard grimly.
"And if the desert itself is their weapon, then this is not merely heresy—it is strategy. One we have yet to counter." Veyra weighed every single word.
"You cannot counter what you do not understand. And right now, you understand little. You speak of armies and courage. The desert will bury both. What you require is knowledge. Precision. Patterns. If the council continues to chase glory instead of data, Tan'thalon will fall with its banners still raised." Shyra finally met their eyes, her voice flat but heavy.
Silence fell for a moment. The only thing to break it was the drumming of Maranth's fingers, even through the holograph it was noticeable. Veyra studied Shyra with a calculating gaze, clearly weighing whether her colleagues would listen to reason—or cling to pride. Silence stretched the chamber, save for the faint buzzing of the glowing map, marking the creeping line of sand. Maranth's low voice broke it.
"You ask us to trust in numbers while villages are buried. Our people cry for action, not patience. They will not understand delays wrapped in calculations."
"Then perhaps it is time the council learns to teach rather than to appease. Numbers are not delays, High Councilor—they are warnings. Ignore them, and the cries you hear now will be nothing compared to the silence when there is no one left to cry." Shyra folded her hands behind her back, measured but edged in her response.
"You speak as though the desert is predictable—as though Ba'ham's cult follows rules we can chart. Can you truly forecast where it will strike next?" Veyra leaned closer on the table projected in her holograph, her eyes narrowing as she studied the map.
"Not with certainty. But probability, yes. Based on movement, terrain, and reported cult sightings, the next vulnerable settlements are here… and here." Shyra turned something on the map, a ripple of light spreading across it. In her explanation she gestured, two faintly glowing dots reacting by pulsing, far closer to Tan'thalon than the others.
Maranth grimaced.
"Too close. Within weeks of the outlying farms."
Veyra glanced at him, then back to Shyra.
"And your conclusion?"
"You cannot hold the line with swords alone. For every rider Eldarion demands, you will buy only sand and graves. If you wish to resist this, you must sever the cult's influence. Find the source. Break it. The desert's pace will falter once its hand is cut." Shyra gave her conclusion without hesitation. She wasn't known to sugarcoat things.
"You propose rooting out shadows while the sun burns down the fields. That is no strategy—it is gamble." Maranth responded gruffly.
"And yet gambles are all that remain when certainty slips away." Veyra's response was calm, aimed more at herself than anything.
Shyra regarded them both with an unreadable expression, though her fingers tapped on one of the panels in front of her in restrained frustration.
"I do not gamble. I calculate. And my calculations tell me this: if you keep choosing spectacle over sense, Tan'thalon will not last the year." Shyra responded flatly, after a tense pause.
While most of Tan'thalon was fast asleep, Maranth and Veyra made their way to the conference room where they had spoken with Shyra. They were now accompanied by the third council member, Jareth. Maranth swayed the oaken doors open with grandeur that only a man befitting his status could. He made a straight line right for the lazulli node in the center. Clearly he didn't want to waste time. It was Veyra that slowed him down a hint.
"Maranth.. We haven't spoken to him in decades. Do you really think it wise to just barge into this conversation?" she carefully prodded.
"What other choice do we have? If the data analyst is right, Tan'thalon needs to buy time. And the architect is the best way to do that." For the first time, Maranth's stoic expression showed a hint of worry.
"We didn't exactly leave on the best of terms last time" Jareth said, sympathising with Veyra.
The high counselor wouldn't have any of it and pressed the lazulli node, anxiously awaiting if the shield architect would even answer. He didn't answer yet. One minute went by. Two minutes turned into ten. Then, strings of light started pouring from the node. They formed the visage of a Haitreh. Like Shyra he moved around on four digitigrade legs, though his build was heavier. He was larger than most Haitreh, with massive rear leg musculature built to brace for shield impact redirection. His cranial ridge was flattened for mounting graviton relay arrays, and his arms were heavily armored. He didn't take shielding as just an architect it seemed. When he spoke, his voice carried that same harmonious undertone that seemed typical for the Haitreh.
"Maranth.. " he inclined his head shortly "Don't tell me. The wall is in distress, like I told you it would, twenty five years ago".
"Shield architect Veylak. It has been too long. You were summoned because the council has need of your expertise." The high councilor tried to ignore the remark with a stern tone.
"Expertise?" Drenn snorted as he continued to fiddle with some displays, designs for shields no doubt "You ignored it for twenty years. Now the desert knocks at your doors, and suddenly the old Haitreh's ramblings are worth hearing again. Tell me, Maranth, is it humility I hear… or desperation?".
"Call it pragmatism," Veyra said smoothly, trying to diffuse the two men. "The Arc Wall is the city's pride, but it must also be its salvation. Certainly you have spoken with Shyra. Can it endure what comes?".
"The wall endures because I made it endure" Drenn scoffed, clearly bothered by how they left things last time "Stabilisers woven through stone, harmonized to Tan'thalon's rhythm. But stone weathers, veins fracture, wards weaken. If the desert presses as hard as you claim, then no — it cannot endure, not as it stands today."
"We have spoken with Shyra Vollten" Maranth said, running his fingers tentatively over his beard "Three farms in as many weeks".
"Hmph" Drenn shot him a brief glance "At least she still remembers numbers matter more than prayer. Good. You'll understand when I say this wall must be reinforced, not merely patched. New stabilisers, repulsors, shield generators. I would advise deploying a graviton lattice projector too. Days of work. Weeks, if the council dithers."
Lights shot out of the node again, weaving into the familiar form of Eldarion. He always had a great timing to barge into things.
"Ah, the council gathers again. Have you decided, then? Shall I lead the charge into the sands, or will you have me sit idle while cowards cling to walls?"
"And here's the other reason your wall will fall. Too much noise, not enough thought." Drenn muttered, not even giving the other projection a glance.
Eldarion immediately bristled "What did you sa–".
Drenn didn't grant him the joy of finishing as he cut in with a sharp voice.
"I said your sword will do less to stop the desert than a bucket against the tide. You want glory? Fine. But when Tan'thalon's stones crumble, remember whose arrogance let them crack."
"Perhaps Tan'thalon needs both wall and sword. But without the Shield architect's hand, the wall will fail before the sword even leaves its sheath." Veyra tried to diffuse the situation again.
Drenn gruffed, he certainly lived up to his grumpy reputation "At last, someone who speaks sense. Give me workers, resources, and silence from your paladin, and I'll give you time. Nothing more. Time. Use it wisely, or waste it — makes no difference to the wall."
Drenn then turned to Maranth, not quite satisfied with their previous discussion in the past.
"Twenty years ago, I stood in this very chamber with the same warnings. I laid the figures before you—fracture rates, Lazulli leeching, the weakening wards. And what did you tell me then, Maranth? That it was too costly. Too distant. That your grandchildren could worry about it."
Maranth felt the need to defend himself.
"We had no proof the wall would falter in our time. And Tan'thalon's coffers could not be emptied for a threat still centuries away."
Drenn only snarled back. He always hated when his warnings were waved off, even if they were based on facts.
"Centuries? Look outside your windows! The desert is already clawing at your farmlands. Villages swallowed in weeks, not lifetimes. The cracks I warned of are here, widening with every tide of sand. Your 'prudence' bought you nothing but decay."
Veyra, as always, tried to cool the fire rekindling between the two.
"Enough. The past cannot be relit, only its lessons carried forward. The question now is whether the Shield architect can still mend what time and neglect have undone."
Drenn's gaze snapped towards her, then back to Maranth.
"I can mend stone, Lady Veyra. I can weave your Lazulli veins anew and implement Haitreh technology. But I cannot mend arrogance. That rot lies with the council. And it festers still."
As his image faded, he made one last remark "Humans.. Thinking violence solves everything..".
The night guards patrolling the wall weren't the only ones still up at this hour. Inside the city, High Counsilor Maranth and Counsilor Veyra were still in the council chamber, the etchings in the floor catching the soft moonlight. They still had other matters to attend to. Matters that couldn't wait. That was the life of a councilor. One meeting flowing over into the next.
Veyra leaned forward, her voice clipped.
"So it is true, then. Silent Wardens drew blades against the Diviner. Here, in our city. That kind of order does not move without sanction from a high hand."
Maranth let a heavy sigh escape his lip, clasping his hands.
"Rumor and half-truths. We must not leap to conclusions. The Wardens answer to no council decree. Perhaps they mistook her for another enemy."
Veyra arced an eyebrow, her response as sharp as a blade.
"An enemy who also happens to be a disciple of May'jahan? Who is whispered of in every ring of the city? No, Maranth. The strike was deliberate. And if the Wardens were turned, then Ba'ham's rot is already coiling inside Tan'thalon's veins."
Maranth shook his head with a grim expression.
"Even if you are right, what would you have us do? Strike against Ba'ham's cultists openly? The city trembles already with talk of desert sands at the gates. If we cry heresy in the streets, panic will drown us faster than the dunes."
Veyra kept her relentless coolness.
"And if we stay silent, his whispers will root deeper. Ba'ham thrives in the shadows, Maranth. He does not need armies — he needs doubt. The people already whisper of the Diviner as a savior. As May'Jahan's champion. If she falls to unseen blades while we say nothing, it will not be her blood that stains Tan'thalon. It will be ours."
Maranth looked away, his eyes on the swirling patterns on the wall. Signs of May'Jahan. The weight of twenty years of decisions pressed down on his aging frame. Veyra softened her tone slightly, though still carrying an edge to her voice.
"The Diviner is not the danger here. The danger is that we hesitate while Ba'ham acts without hesitation. The ambush is proof. We must root out where his hand touches — even if that hand could wear the glove of a paladin."
Maranth's eyes flicked at her words, perhaps the same thought had already crossed his mind but he couldn't bring himself to voice it. He leaned back, the silence weighing heavy on the room. Finally he spoke, quiet and troubled.
"To accuse a paladin would tear the council apart. But… to ignore this would be worse. Perhaps… perhaps a subtler hand is needed first."
Veyra studied him, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded once, sharp, like a blade striking a stone. For a moment they remained there in silence.
The quiet broke when the lazulli node in the center activated. Shards of light streamed out and blended together until they formed the image Shyra Vollten. She spoke without preamble, to the point as always.
"I have compiled the latest nights' reports. If you will. I now have an overview of the past year."
She tapped one of the data screens, the Haitreh's Kethri node flawlessly integrated her technology with the human's magitech as the Lazulli node formed the screen in the council chamber. A thin slice of light spilled over a map of Tan'thalon, points pulsing where incidents clustered. Maranth recognised the rooftop incident.
"Two clusters of cult activity in the Lower Ring in the last fortnight. Five confirmed meetings, three attempted recruitments at marketplaces. Resource flows show increased Lazulli crystal shipments to a depot in the west quarter—unusual routing for a quarter that has no mines."
Maranth narrowed his eyes.
"Lazulli crystals? Routed in secret?"
Shyra answered flatly.
"Yes. The Wardens' sudden movement correlates with the same timeframes. Contracts signed, payment delivered through a front merchant. The ambush on the Diviner fits the pattern of targeted silencing: public figure who draws attention away from the cult's work."
Veyra studied Shyra's display, fixing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"You have hard links—transactions, locations, times. Not merely whispers?"
Shyra nodded once. Even for a Haitreh, she always favored efficiency.
"Hard enough to justify an inquiry. Not hard enough to indict senators or high houses. But enough to launch a controlled investigation that will not set the city into panic or allow the Wardens to disperse."
Maranth leaned back, rubbing his temple. In doing so he angled himself in the lantern light, revealing deep wrinkles and creases. No one actually knew how old he really was. He answered quietly.
"We cannot treat this like a tavern quarrel. If Ba'ham's hand touches the Wardens, it may touch other offices. But naming it rashly—accusing the wrong men—will tear the council apart."
Veyra was the decisive one, her eyes fixed on Maranth.
"We need someone who can be both spear and scalpel. A champion who can marshal forces, yet operate with discipline and restraint. Someone the city respects, and the Wardens fear."
"And it cannot be the Diviner." Maranth intervened.
Veyra breathed for a moment before answering.
"Serenya Kael."
This reaction caught Maranth by surprise.
"The Iron Vanguard? She commands the city's elite militia. She answers to the council—but publicly, she is a symbol of strength. Why her, Veyra?"
Veyra kept a calm composure.
"Because she already has authority. Because her name opens doors the Wardens close. And because her method is not spectacle—Serenya is surgical. She has led investigations before: rooting out smuggling rings and corrupt quartermasters without drumbeats in the streets. Her unit can move at the council's behest and make any necessary arrests under martial pretext, avoiding public hysteria."
Shyra looked pleased, summing everything up.
"A public face that doubles as a veil. She can reinforce the wall visibly while her vanguard probes behind it. If you present the reinforcement as civic defense, the people are pacified. Behind that curtain, Serenya's teams find the cult lines."
Maranth was a little hesitant.
"And if a paladin is behind it? What about that show off Eldarion? If he learns that a champion is investigating the Wardens— He'll spread the rumor through the city and the council like wildfire"
Shyra's response came sharp.
"He must not learn. He is useful to the council in public, and dangerous when affronted. Any direct accusation linking a paladin to the Wardens now would either make that paladin defiant or drive him or her to drastic acts. This must be done with secrecy: limited orders, sealed transmissions, a small chain of command."
Veyra's answer came soft, but with iron in her voice.
"Serenya answers to the council. But she answers most readily to a clear mandate. We give her a single charge: investigate the Wardens' recent contracts, trace the Lazulli crystal shipments, identify the front merchants, and dismantle the cells found. She will report only to Maranth and myself—and to Shyra for the data."
Maranth's eyes flicked between the two, then he responded resolutely.
"Only us. No minutes recorded beyond this chamber. No mention in the public docket. If Serenya is to move, she must move as if the city itself ordered a reinforcement—no more, no less. We avoid naming Ba'ham. We avoid naming a Paladin. We save the naming for when the net is ready to close."
Shyra tapped a point on the map, the respective part lighting up on the shared display.
"Good. If I coordinate the intelligence feed—market rhythms, merchant ledgers, Wardens' movement—Serenya can pick targets with minimal collateral. She will not raid temples or homes without proof. If the cult's grasp reaches into more official hands, she is authorized to detain and bring suspects to the chamber for sealed questioning."
Veyra steepled her fingers.
"And if we find a paladin's hand in this?"
Maranth's answer came slowly.
"Then we remove him from the field and expose him with proof. Public spectacle then, yes—but only when the council can present incontrovertible evidence. Until then, we protect the city's stability."
A long pause followed. The map dimmed as Shyra removed her hand. Then Veyra said softly.
"I will send word to Serenya tonight. Quietly. She will know what to do. If the Iron Vanguard moves, you will have eyes and force where the Wardens thought they were safe."
She laced her fingers together now.
"And Maranth—prepare the pretext: an order to reinforce the Arc Wall, a public show that keeps the people calm. Serenya will take troops under that banner; behind it, she will act."
Maranth slowly rose to his full height, a knee cracking as he did. He leaned on his staff, having made his decision.
"So be it. We act now—quietly, precisely. For Tan'thalon."
Veyra repeated. Shyra, being a Haitreh, refrained from it. In its core, Tan'thalon was still a human city. Besides, her mind was already busy with which files to open first. Her image slowly faded as the Lazulli node deactivated. Maranth stared at the floor, as though he remembered the argument he had twenty years ago with Drenn Veylak, and with it, the price of being late.