The Briefing Room – Next Morning
The room felt smaller than usual.
Alistair stood at the head of the table. His eyes were still red, but his voice was steady. He'd had hours to prepare. Hours to grieve. Hours to remind himself that the war didn't stop because one person died.
The team sat in their usual places. Cora with her arms crossed. Mason with his gauntlets on, fingers flexing. Sera with her crossbow across her lap. Derek with his staff in his hand, ghosts hovering close.
Lucian sat at the far end, the crystal shard from the ritual chamber on the table in front of him.
Alistair didn't waste time.
"The pendant wasn't just a key to a vault. It was a key to something older. An artifact that predates the Veil itself."
Cora leaned forward. "What kind of artifact?"
