The whisper-quartz crackled at midnight.
Kael Myrvalis held the shard to his ear — a splinter of pale crystal smaller than his thumb, threaded with veins of bioluminescent blue. The transmission was fragmented. Morreth's quartz network operated on frequencies that surface-world acoustics distorted, and this signal had traveled through forty kilometers of stone before reaching the relay station in Ashenveil's Ministry quarter.
But the voice was clear enough.
"—movement in the outer faults. Three days. Tremors in the deep approach. They're digging — directed, purposeful. Digging toward—"
Static. Wet stone grinding against wet stone, the signal fragmenting into noise.
"—the quartz reserves. If they reach the deep halls—"
The signal died. Kael set the shard on his desk and opened a secure channel to the Iron Citadel.
"How close?"
