Ashwing uncoiled from his wrist and dropped onto the floor.
"You waited too long," the dragon said.
"I wanted to see if he'd crack."
"He didn't."
"No. But he's afraid now. That's enough."
Ashwing walked ahead, tail flicking behind him as he passed under the edge of the armory rack. "You're going to need help."
Lindarion didn't answer.
He moved to the long stone table at the back of the chamber, pulled out the scroll tube from inside his coat, and uncapped it.
The map unfurled across the surface, held flat by four metal corners already set in place.
This was the real thing.
Six marks.
Three sealed.
Two already disturbed.
And one—
"Still dormant," Ashwing said, reading from the side. "But marked for activation. Four days."
Lindarion pressed his fingers against the edge of the parchment. The handwriting was clean. Coded. But not subtle enough to evade someone trained to break old war cyphers.
"Caldris, Veldoria, Sylvarion… they've spread it under noble lands."
