The report chamber of Dominion High was designed to magnify unease. Its architecture was vast and circular, with ceilings vanishing into darkness and walls carved from obsidian that reflected only the faintest outlines of those within. At the center of the room burned a brazier of blue fire, its cold light crawling across the stone floor.
The Dominion riders knelt before the council dais, armor dented and mud-stained from their fruitless chase. Their captain, a gaunt man with scars etched across his jaw, kept his head bowed as he spoke.
“We tracked the rebels into the southern woods. For two nights we pressed the search. But… they escaped. The ridge concealed their movements, and the storm masked their trail. We found nothing beyond broken stone and whispers.”
The silence that followed
