The first whispers of Pyronis's mobilization arrived like wind-borne ash. Scouts returned with hurried reports: columns of black-armored soldiers marching along the western passes, banners of molten flame snapping in the wind, the rivers of lava in Pyronis glowing brighter, as if the kingdom itself was stirring to life. Bao Bao listened to each report, his fists tightening at the table's edge.
"Scouts spotted forges operating day and night," Rana said, her voice taut. "They're repairing siege engines and constructing new ones. Their troops—thousands more than last season—are moving west."
Kuro's eyes narrowed. "They've never mobilized this fast without reason. The Conclave's attack wasn't enough. They're preparing for something bigger."
Raijin's hand brushed the table. "Their movements are precise. They're not just preparing—they're strategizing. Pyronis always plans three steps ahead."
Bao Bao spread his glowing fingers over the map again, tracing the western borders, the passes, the rivers and valleys. "Then we assume the worst," he said. "They will not just test us. They will strike. We must act as though war has already begun, even if the world doesn't yet see it."
He paused, meeting each of his allies' eyes. "The Golden, Silver, and Bronze armies remain under our command for now, but we'll need every Sunshadow Guard positioned along the Ash Plains. The southern walls reinforced. Scouts in the passes, and every messenger's word verified twice. Pyronis will look for any sign of weakness. We give them none."
Outside, the wind brought a faint heat from the west, a warning in every flicker of flame on the horizon. Bao Bao could feel it in his bones, the tremor of a kingdom preparing to burn.
---
Thousands of leagues away, in the volcanic heart of Pyronis, the Council of the Five Flames gathered once more. The Obsidian Spire trembled lightly beneath the roar of rivers of molten rock, casting a deep red glow across the council chamber.
High Flame-Lord Kharzek Brimwrought stood at the head of the table, molten eyes tracing the map laid out before him. "Firelonia grows restless," he said. "They hide behind politics, but the Sun King's new powers are no secret. Every day we wait, they strengthen further."
Flame-Speaker Lyssa Vorn leaned forward, her voice sharp. "Then we strike before they consolidate. Their armies are young, their generals untested. Let us catch them in the moment of uncertainty."
General Rythis Emberborn placed his fingers over the western passes. "Our scouts report activity along the Ash Plains, but not yet full deployment. They remain reactive, uncoordinated. If we time this properly, we can divide their forces and force them to respond piecemeal."
Forge-Master Halvek, usually silent, spoke at last. "The Golden, Silver, and Bronze armies… we cannot underestimate them. Firelonia has been preparing. Their power may be unpredictable, but it is potent."
Elder Pyra-daim Lornak, his robes flowing like molten silk, shook his head. "Do not rush. If we strike too early, the Conclave will exploit our aggression. They do not share our aims. Our goal is control, not chaos."
Lyssa's smirk was thin, her words a razor. "Chaos can be useful. Firelonia's unity is untested. Let fear fracture them before their Sun King truly learns the extent of his power."
Kharzek's claws tapped the obsidian table, the sound echoing across the chamber. "War is inevitable. Whether now or later, Firelonia's rise cannot go unchallenged. But we strike only when the world agrees we are justified. When our hand is seen as containment, not conquest."
Rythis exhaled slowly. "Then we wait. For the spark."
Kharzek's molten eyes glimmered. "And when that spark appears," he growled, "Pyronis will burn Firelonia to ash."
The lava beneath the spire rumbled as if affirming the council's resolve. In Firelonia, the shadows of war crept ever closer. In Pyronis, the flames of ambition were already fanned to fury.
---