A sharp snap of broad wings broke the dawn silence of the Lunar Pavilion, dropping a slate gray messenger hawk heavily onto the cedar railing.
Caleb Conway stepped onto the dew-soaked veranda, unbuttoning his gray coat against the morning mountain breeze as he reached out to steady the bird. The hawk carried a narrow brass cylinder banded with the twin-fish seal of the southern river wharves, signaling a priority dispatch from the mortal city below. Caleb unscrewed the threaded cap, slid the tightly wound vellum from the tube, and fed the raptor a strip of salted fat while his eyes scanned the dense cipher Hannah had inked under candlelight.
The numbers told a story of accelerating financial suffocation.
Fiona Conway’s liquid reserves had officially evaporated. The defeat at the municip
