The teleportation nexus deposited Seraphina and me into the low, ambient hum of the Creighton estate. We materialized not into celebration, but into the heavy, charged silence of a command center bracing for impact. The month since her descent into the Frost-Heart Cavern had been a tight coil of waiting, planning, and wrestling with the sickening realization of our own inadequacy against the coming storm. Seeing her beside me now, radiating the profound, settled cold of a newly minted Mid Radiant, was less a relief and more the sound of the final lock clicking into place before a siege. The board was finally set.
Alastor met us, his face etched with a gravity that went beyond his usual calm professionalism. His eyes lingered on Seraphina, assessing the glacial weight of her new power with a strategist's precision. "Seraphina," he greeted, a nod conveying volumes. "Welcome back. Your timing is, as always, precise."
