The command deck of the Dominion flagship, *Obsidian Meridian*, was a cathedral of order and cold light. Vein-lit panels glowed blue and white across the walls, casting long shadows over the officers gathered at their stations. Outside, the battered remnants of the Dominion fleet drifted in the river's current, their hulls scarred by the fires of Liraine's rebellion.
Saren Voss stood at the center of it all, a solitary figure in black and silver. His uniform was immaculate, his posture rigid, but his eyes—pale and sharp as broken glass—betrayed nothing of the turmoil beneath. The defeat at Liraine was a wound, but not a mortal one. He would not allow it.
The Iron Admiral entered, her boots ringing on the polished floor. She saluted crisply. "The fleet is regrouped, Lord Commander. We lost more ships than initial estimates, but the core remains. The resistance… they fight like they believe they can win."
Voss did not turn. "Hope is a dangerous contagion, Admiral. It must be stamped out before it spreads."
She hesitated. "The Whisperer cells in Liraine have gone dark. Our informants report that Kael Miren's message was heard as far as the Frostborn cities. Uprisings are breaking out in the Marches and the salt flats."
Voss's jaw tightened. He moved to the main display, where a map of the Meridian flickered with new signals—blue for resistance, red for Dominion. The blue was spreading.
"Send word to all regional governors," he said, voice low and precise. "Martial law is to be enforced. Any city that harbors the Riftborne or his allies will be made an example."
The Admiral nodded, but her eyes were wary. "And Liraine?"
Voss's lips thinned. "We will retake it. But not with brute force alone. The people must see the cost of defiance. Prepare the Emberfall Protocol. I want the Vein lines to the city severed—no power, no comms, no water. Let them starve on their hope."
A murmur of unease rippled through the officers. One, a young Vein Guildmaster, stepped forward. "Sir, if we cut the Vein lines, the hospitals—"
"They are rebels now," Voss interrupted, his voice like a knife. "Mercy is a luxury we cannot afford."
He dismissed the officers with a gesture, leaving only the Admiral and his intelligence chief, a gaunt woman named Siraen.
Siraen produced a thin crystal tablet. "There is another matter, Lord Commander. Our agents in the Guilds report that Selene Veyra survived the siege. She and the Riftborne are working together."
Voss's eyes narrowed. "The engineer is the key. Without her, the resistance cannot maintain their Vein networks. Find her. Use the bounty if you must. Alive, if possible."
Siraen hesitated. "There is… unrest among the Guildmasters. Some question the wisdom of total war. They fear the Meridian will unite if we press too hard."
Voss turned, his gaze icy. "Fear is useful. Let them tremble. But remind them: the Dominion endures because we do not flinch. If they waver, replace them."
He strode to the observation window, looking down at the river and the distant, stubborn lights of Liraine. For a moment, his reflection merged with the city's fractured glow—a man and an empire, both wounded but unbroken.
"Prepare the Emberfall Protocol," he repeated. "And send a message to Kael Miren: Tell him the Dominion remembers. Tell him the Meridian will burn before it bows."
The Iron Admiral and Siraen exchanged a glance, then saluted and withdrew, leaving Voss alone with the hum of Vein engines and the weight of his own ambition.
He allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. The Riftborne was more than a threat—he was a symbol, a spark in dry grass. But Voss had studied history. He knew how to snuff out sparks. He would break Kael Miren, and in doing so, break the Meridian's will.
Outside, the Dominion fleet's engines rumbled to life, and the sky above the river darkened with the promise of coming fire.
---
The bells of Liraine rang out in the morning mist, but the notes were sharper now—less a celebration, more a warning. Kael stood atop the old tower with Selene, Lysara, Mira, and the other resistance leaders, their faces drawn and serious as they watched the river. Far out on the water, the Dominion's fleet lingered, their hulls black against the dawn, their Vein lights cold and unwavering.
Selene adjusted the harmonizer's settings, her hands steady despite the tension in her jaw. "They're waiting for orders," she murmured. "Or for us to make a mistake."
Kael nodded, feeling the Vein's current running through the city, restless and wary. He could sense the people's fear—muted but present, like a bruise beneath the skin. "Voss won't attack until he's certain he can break us. He'll try to starve us out first."
Lysara leaned on the parapet, scanning the horizon with sharp green eyes. "We intercepted a Dominion comm. They're preparing something called the Emberfall Protocol. If they sever the Vein lines, we'll lose power, water, and comms. Hospitals, forges, everything—gone."
A chill ran through the group. Garrick, his arms crossed over his soot-stained chest, growled, "Then we hold the lines. We've got backup generators, old water cisterns, and enough grit to last a siege."
Nalah, standing with her Marshwalker scouts, shook her head. "That's not enough. If the city goes dark, panic will spread. We need to keep hope alive—show the people we're still in control."
Kael turned to Selene. "Can we reroute the Vein? Even if they cut the main lines?"
Selene frowned, her mind already racing through possibilities. "Maybe. The old maintenance tunnels run beneath the city. If we can tap into the auxiliary conduits and use the harmonizer to stabilize the current, we could keep essential systems running. It won't be perfect, but it'll buy us time."
Mira, ever the voice of compassion, added, "We should focus on the clinics first. The wounded can't survive without power."
Kael nodded. "Do it. Lysara, coordinate with the Skyfarers—keep the windships running supplies in and out. Nalah, double the Marshwalker patrols. We can't let the Dominion sabotage our backup lines."
He looked at each of them, feeling the weight of their trust and fear. "We've come too far to let Voss break us now. We hold. We adapt. And if he thinks he can starve us into surrender, he'll learn what Liraine is really made of."
Selene's eyes met his, fierce and determined. "I'll need a team. Whisper, Garrick, and a couple of Skyfarers who know the old city layouts."
Whisper, her mask gleaming in the morning light, nodded. "The Vein will guide us. But the tunnels are dangerous—old traps, Dominion patrols, maybe worse."
Garrick grinned, rolling up his sleeves. "Good. I was getting bored."
The council broke, each leader moving quickly to their tasks. Kael lingered at the tower window, watching the city below. He saw the people moving with purpose—repairing barricades, tending gardens, teaching children to read by lantern light. The Meridian's hope was fragile, but it was real.
Selene joined him, her voice quiet. "You're worried."
He nodded. "Voss is ruthless. He'll make us pay for every inch of freedom."
She touched his arm, grounding him. "We'll pay it together. And we'll make it count."
Kael smiled, feeling the Vein's current pulse between them—a living thread of unity and defiance.
"Let's get to work," he said.
As the sun climbed, Selene and her team descended into the maintenance tunnels, harmonizer in hand, ready to weave new life into the city's battered veins. Above, the resistance braced for the next move in a war that was no longer just about survival, but about the future of the Meridian itself.
And far out on the river, unseen but ever-present, the Dominion's shadow waited—patient, calculating, and ready to strike.
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