Three hours after Ivory's attack on the Emerald Wilds, Swift-River landed in the Grove and made straight for the tactical planning chamber. Maps and crystal shards covered every surface. The air hummed with urgency and smelled of cold stone and fear-sweat. Junior Druids rushed between stations with reports clutched in white-knuckled hands.

  Something had changed since she'd left Adamar's office. The air pressed down, thick with held breath.

  Heat prickled beneath Swift-River's shoulder blades. The transformation responding to tension in the room.

  She found Lixiss at the main table.

  The high elf's silver hair was bound back in a severe knot, strands escaping where they'd been hastily tucked. Her runed circlet sat slightly crooked. But it was her eyes that stopped Swift-River mid-step.

  Hollow.

  "Lixiss." Swift-River's voice came out ragged. "I heard about Keep Wind-Swept. Were you able to reach your family?"

  Lixiss's hand froze on a crystal shard. "My goddaughter." Her voice held no inflection. "She climbed to the rooftop with her bow. They found her still facing the direction they came from."

  Five years old.

  "Lixiss, I..."

  "We don't have time for grief." Lixiss dissolved the tactical image with a flattened palm. "Let's find your Orc friend before there are no Orcs left."

  As Lixiss turned, Swift-River caught a glimpse of the quiver at her hip. New arrows among the standard shafts. Custom fletched. Hummingbird feathers.

  Birthday arrows. For a sixth birthday that would never come.

  Swift-River reached toward her, then stopped. Her hand hung in the air between them. No words existed for a woman carrying her goddaughter's birthday present as a weapon.

  "After we stop this," Lixiss said without looking up, "we can drink until the words come. Or don't." Her hollow eyes found Swift-River's. Held them. Two people who understood that grief could wait. "For now..."

  She gestured to the tactical map, and Swift-River noticed her hands weren't quite as steady as her voice.

  ***

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  A junior Druid approached with a sealed envelope. Black wax pressed with an ornate crest. Winds spiraling around a crowned 'W.'

  Lixiss broke the seal and read in silence. Her jaw tightened. Her fingers whitened at the edges of the parchment.

  "Family?" Swift-River asked quietly.

  "My cousin. Lord WindRider." Lixiss folded the letter with precise movements. "The attack happened at his keep. His aunts were among the risen. He sends his condolences. Takes responsibility for the failure of his wards."

  "That's... considerate of him."

  "Thaddeus always knows the right thing to say." Lixiss's thumb traced the broken seal. Her tone was flat. Not quite bitter. Something harder to read. "He says Talia fought bravely. Small comfort, he writes." She tucked the letter into her belt pouch. "He's right about that, at least. It is small. Far too small."

  The black wax seal caught the light. Winds circling a crown. Something about the design nagged at Swift-River. A gesture she'd seen somewhere. Hands pressed together, fingers forming a peak.

  The memory slipped away before she could catch it.

  ***

  They worked over the tactical map, marking positions. Red markers spread across the projection. Swift-River counted them. Fourteen new attacks since dawn. The crystal hummed beneath her fingertips, warm with accumulated bad news.

  "There's something methodical about these attacks." Lixiss traced three arrows on the map, all pointing toward the same valley. "Every refugee column. Every scattered clan. Ruby's pushing them here." Her finger tapped the junction point. "He isn't just attacking. He's orchestrating."

  Swift-River's claws flexed against the table edge. The enemy moved too precisely. Anticipated too accurately.

  "Lixiss." Swift-River kept her voice neutral. "Have you noticed how accurately they predict our positioning?"

  A long pause stretched between them.

  "I've noticed."

  "Someone could be feedin' them intelligence." The drawl slipped out before she could stop it. Heat flickered in her throat.

  Lixiss's jaw tightened, but she didn't dismiss the possibility. Just returned to marking evacuation routes with movements that had grown infinitely more careful.

  "If there's a leak," Lixiss said quietly, "it's above my clearance to investigate." Her eyes met Swift-River's. "And probably above yours."

  The implication settled cold. Someone with access to high-level Druid intelligence. Someone trusted. The letter in Lixiss's belt pouch. The black wax seal. The cousin whose words always landed perfectly. Whose comfort never felt quite earned.

  She pushed the thought away. Paranoia. Grief making you see shadows.

  But her instincts whispered otherwise.

  Later.

  She filed it where she kept things that might get her killed.

  But she memorized the seal anyway. Winds circling a crown.

  ***

  Swift-River stepped back from the map. "I need to fly reconnaissance. See the patterns from above."

  Lixiss nodded, her hand drifting to the hummingbird-fletched arrows. "Be careful. Whatever's orchestrating this... they're always three steps ahead."

  Swift-River paused at the chamber's exit. Looked back at the high elf bent over maps and crystal shards, hunting patterns in chaos. Hunting the enemy who had taken everything from her.

  "Lixiss. The arrows."

  Lixiss's hand tightened on the quiver. "What about them?"

  "Make them count."

  Lixiss's chin lifted. Her eyes hardened to glass. A blade being honed.

  "I intend to."

  Swift-River spread her wings and launched toward the sky. The afternoon sun caught her copper scales.

  Below, Lixiss didn't look up. Her hand rested on the hummingbird arrows, and she was already hunting.

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