The snow along the northern ridges of the Himalayas trembled beneath the weight of boots, hooves, and heavy iron wheels. It was still morning when the League finally arrived at the hidden plateau where the ruins of the Kailasa Temple stood — the ancient portal to Shamballa.
The mist that had always concealed the place swirled like a serpent disturbed, curling around the towering stone columns and cracked marble idols. Soldiers raised their rifles as if expecting an ambush, but there was only silence… an unnatural, watching silence.
At the head of the army rode five black carriages. Inside sat the Council of the League — five old men wrapped in woolen coats and fox furs, their polished boots and brass monocles gleaming in the cold light. They were the sort of men who spoke softly but move
