The Council planning session filled the largest chamber Nolan had ever seen.
Fifty adventurers from a dozen different teams, twenty military officers, Council representatives, and various specialists crowded around a massive table displaying a detailed map. The fortress in question sat in miniature at the center—a perfect illusion showing walls, towers, and surrounding terrain.
"The target is Blackridge Fortress," Commander Thorne—no relation to Nolan, thankfully—announced to the assembled force. "Abandoned military installation from the border wars, now occupied by the Eternal Flame cult. Intelligence suggests at least forty cultists, possibly more, with unknown magical capabilities."
He gestured, and the illusionary map shifted, showing different angles of the fortress.
"Three approach vectors. North gate is heavily defended but offers direct access. East wall has a collapsed section—difficult terrain but fewer guards. South approach requires climbing but provides tactical advantage." He pointed to each location. "We'll divide into three strike forces, hit simultaneously at dawn, overwhelm them before they can mount coordinated defense."
"What's their objective?" someone called out. "Why gather in such numbers?"
"Unknown. Could be a leadership summit, major ritual, or strategic planning session. Intelligence is limited—most scouts who got close enough didn't return."
That drew murmurs from the crowd. Nolan felt the weight in his chest pulse once, acknowledging the danger.
"Strike Force Alpha—north gate assault." Commander Thorne began assigning teams. The Iron Hawks, two military squads, a team of dwarf demolitionists. "Breach the main entrance, draw primary attention, push toward the central keep."
"Strike Force Beta—east wall infiltration." The Silver Talons, military scouts, a team specializing in barrier magic. "Move through collapsed section, eliminate sentries quietly, secure the ritual chamber if they've established one."
"Strike Force Gamma—south wall assault." Commander Thorne's eyes swept across remaining teams. "Warriors Four, Storm Wardens, and Phoenix Company. Scale the south wall, secure high ground, provide cover and cut off retreat routes."
Nolan exchanged glances with his teammates. Selene nodded—their team was used to mobile tactics, and the south approach played to those strengths.
"Timing is critical," the Commander continued. "All three forces move at dawn simultaneously. The cult must not have time to mount organized resistance or complete any rituals in progress. Questions?"
Marcus from the Iron Hawks raised his hand. "Do we have intelligence on their magical capabilities? Defensive wards, combat mages, anything specific?"
"Limited information. We know they have at least three confirmed mages, possibly more. Expect fire magic—it's their signature. Defensive wards are likely, but our barrier specialists will handle those." Commander Thorne's expression hardened. "What we don't know is what they're gathering for. If it's a major ritual, interrupting it could be dangerous. Unstable magic, backfire effects, possible explosions. Stay alert, follow your team leaders, and don't take unnecessary risks."
After the briefing ended, the various teams dispersed to make preparations. The Warriors Four gathered in a quieter corner of the chamber.
"Three days to get there, one day for the assault, three days back," Selene calculated. "Week-long operation, potentially high casualties. Everyone sure about this?"
"Forty cultists?" Darion's grin was sharp. "That's forty fewer cultists. I'm in."
"The cult has been escalating," Kaida added. "Abductions, rituals, attacks on trade routes. If we can strike a significant blow, disrupt their operations..." She nodded. "It's worth the risk."
They all looked at Nolan.
"I'm in," he said, ignoring the cold weight pressing against his ribs.
Preparation consumed the next two days.
Equipment maintenance. Supply gathering. Strategy sessions. Master Lyra insisted on an emergency training session focusing on combat magic under pressure.
"You'll be fighting alongside unfamiliar teams," she explained, launching attacks faster than Nolan could comfortably defend against. "Coordination will be chaotic. You need to maintain control even when everything around you is falling apart."
Nolan blocked, dodged, channeled barriers while she pelted him with water projectiles and ice shards.
"Your instincts are improving," she observed. "But you're still overthinking. Trust your training. Trust your power."
Trust me, came the whisper in his mind. I'll keep you alive.
Nolan gritted his teeth and said nothing.
That evening, Varrick invited the team for what he called "possibly our last dinner together—though let's hope not."
"Dramatic," Selene said, but she smiled.
"I'm allowed to worry about my daughter marching into a fortress full of fanatics." Varrick had arranged for food from the best restaurant in the merchant district—roasted duck, vegetables in wine sauce, pastries that probably cost more than a month's rent.
"To the Warriors Four," he said, raising his glass. "May your blades stay sharp, your magic stay strong, and your luck stay ridiculously good."
They drank, ate, talked about everything except the mission. Darion told stories about his family's mining operation. Kaida described her academy days. Selene shared embarrassing childhood memories that made Varrick laugh.
Normal. Comfortable. The kind of evening that made you forget darkness existed.
Until Varrick turned to Nolan with a thoughtful expression.
"You've grown so much since arriving here. When you first walked through that door—what was it, six weeks ago?—you were terrified, desperate, barely holding yourself together." His smile was warm. "Now look at you. Confident adventurer, valued team member, powerful mage learning to control abilities that would have destroyed a lesser person."
"I had good teachers."
"And good instincts. Not everyone adapts as well as you have." Varrick's eyes held his for a moment longer than comfortable. "Whatever happens tomorrow, know that I'm proud of the man you're becoming. Your father would be proud too."
The mention of his father hit like a physical blow. Nolan forced a smile. "Thank you. That means a lot."
Later, as the evening wound down and people drifted toward bed, Varrick caught Nolan alone in the hallway.
"A word, if you have a moment?"
They stepped into Varrick's study. The minister closed the door, then pulled a small wooden box from his desk.
"I want you to have this." He opened the box, revealing a silver ring set with a dark blue stone. "Protection charm. Stronger than the pendant I gave you before. It'll help shield against hostile magic, might even save your life if things go badly."
"I can't accept this. It looks expensive—"
"It's a gift, not a loan. And expense doesn't matter when it comes to keeping you safe." Varrick pressed the box into Nolan's hands. "Please. For my peace of mind if nothing else."
Nolan looked at the ring, feeling a complicated tangle of emotions. Varrick had been nothing but kind since they'd met. Helpful, supportive, generous. A mentor, almost a second father.
"Thank you. Really."
"Just come back alive. All of you." Varrick's expression was sincere. "This house feels right with you in it. I'd hate to lose that."
After leaving the study, Nolan examined the ring more closely. The stone caught light strangely, seeming to shift colors depending on the angle. The silver band was etched with protective runes—real ones, not decorative.
Expensive didn't begin to cover it. This was the kind of charm wealthy nobles bought to protect their heirs.
Generous, Diablo observed. Almost suspiciously so.
"He's just a good person helping someone who needs it."
If you say so.
Nolan slipped the ring on. It fit perfectly, warming against his skin. The protective magic hummed faintly, a subtle presence that made him feel marginally safer.
One more layer of defense between him and the world.
One more thing to lose.
They departed before dawn, three separate forces moving out from different gates to avoid drawing attention. Strike Force Gamma assembled at the south gate—Warriors Four, Storm Wardens, and Phoenix Company. Fifteen adventurers total, plus supplies and equipment.
The Phoenix Company leader was a scarred human woman named Captain Mira, who'd apparently been fighting cultists for a decade. "Lost my family to them when I was sixteen," she explained during the first rest stop. "Been hunting them ever since. This is personal."
"Revenge quest?" Darion asked.
"Justice quest. There's a difference." Her expression was hard. "Revenge is about making them hurt. Justice is about making sure they can't hurt anyone else."
The journey took three days of hard travel through increasingly rough terrain. By the second day, they'd left all settlements behind, moving through wilderness where few ventured. The land itself felt wrong—too quiet, as if even wildlife avoided this region.
"The cult's influence," Captain Mira said when Kaida commented on it. "Dark magic corrupts the environment. Animals sense it, stay away. Smart creatures."
On the third day, they began seeing signs of cultist activity. Marked trees. Discarded supplies. Once, disturbingly, what looked like dried blood on rocks near a stream.
"Sacrifice site," one of the Storm Wardens identified. "Probably animal, but..." He didn't finish the sentence.
They made camp five miles from Blackridge Fortress that evening, no fires, speaking in whispers. The other strike forces would be in position at roughly the same distance, waiting for dawn.
Nolan drew last watch with Captain Mira. They sat in comfortable silence, watching the darkness, listening for threats.
"You're young for this kind of work," she observed eventually. "What got you into adventuring?"
"Didn't have much choice. Family died, needed to survive somehow."
"The cult?"
"Mana beasts. At least, that's what everyone thinks."
Captain Mira studied him. "But you're not sure?"
Nolan hesitated. The question hit too close to truths he couldn't share. "Does it matter? Dead is dead either way."
"True enough." She returned her attention to the darkness. "Just remember—tomorrow, when we hit that fortress, stay focused. Don't let anger or fear control you. The cult will use emotion against you if they can. Dark magic feeds on that kind of thing."
"I'll remember."
"Good. Because I've seen too many promising young fighters die because they lost control at the wrong moment." Her voice softened slightly. "And you seem like decent people. I'd rather you didn't die."
"Me too."
They sat in silence after that, watching the stars wheel overhead, waiting for dawn and violence.
The weight in Nolan's chest remained utterly quiet. Not reassuring. Not threatening. Just... there. Present. Waiting alongside him.
Dawn came cold and gray.
The strike forces assembled in pre-dawn darkness, making final preparations. Weapons checked. Armor adjusted. Spells reviewed. The kind of ritualistic preparation warriors do before battle, giving hands something to do while minds try not to think about mortality.
"Remember the plan," Selene said quietly to her team. "We scale the south wall, secure the high ground, provide covering fire for the ground forces. Don't engage unless necessary. Don't take unnecessary risks. We work as a team, we watch each other's backs, we all go home."
"Inspiring speech," Darion said. "Very 'try not to die.'"
"It's a good strategy."
"Can't argue with that."
Captain Mira approached, her Phoenix Company ready. "Strike Force Gamma is in position. Waiting for the signal."
They didn't have to wait long. As the sun touched the horizon, a flare shot into the sky from the north—brilliant red, impossible to miss.
The signal.
All three forces moved simultaneously.
Strike Force Gamma rushed the south approach—a steep hillside leading to the fortress's rear wall. The climb was brutal, loose rocks and steep inclines, but they pushed hard, knowing speed mattered more than caution now.
Shouts erupted from the north—Strike Force Alpha hitting the main gate. Explosions followed, the demolitionists breaching defenses.
South wall sentries turned toward the commotion, distracted. Perfect.
They reached the wall. The Storm Wardens conjured barriers, creating platforms. The Phoenix Company produced climbing gear. Within minutes, they were scaling the fortifications.
Nolan hauled himself over the top, landing on the wall-walk beside Selene. Below, the fortress interior spread out—courtyard, barracks, a central keep. And everywhere, cultists scrambling to respond to the multi-pronged assault.
"Positions!" Captain Mira commanded.
The teams spread along the wall, establishing firing positions. Darion immediately began loosing arrows at cultists trying to organize in the courtyard. Kaida's water magic reached down like tentacles, disrupting enemy formations. The Phoenix Company's archers added their volleys.
From their elevated position, they had perfect fields of fire. Cultists below scrambled for cover, torn between responding to the north gate breach and the arrows raining from above.
"It's working," Selene breathed. "The plan is actually working."
Then the keep's doors exploded outward.
Three figures emerged, wreathed in flame—the cult's mages, finally joining the battle. They raised their hands, and fire bloomed across the courtyard, forcing Strike Force Alpha to fall back from their advance.
"Shit," Captain Mira spat. "They're stronger than intel suggested. Storm Wardens, shields! Phoenix Company, suppress those mages!"
The battle escalated instantly. Fireballs arced toward the south wall. The Storm Wardens raised barriers, catching most of the attacks, but the heat was intense even through magical shields.
One fireball got through, striking the wall near Nolan. Stone exploded, showering him with debris. He threw up a hasty barrier on instinct, blue energy crackling around him.
The cultist mage who'd thrown the fireball paused, attention suddenly fixed on Nolan. Even at this distance, across the chaos of battle, Nolan felt the weight of that stare.
Recognition.
"No," he whispered.
The mage raised his hand, ignoring other targets, focusing entirely on Nolan. Building power, gathering flames, preparing something big.
Down! Diablo's voice, sharp with urgency.
Nolan dove aside just as a massive column of fire engulfed where he'd been standing. The Storm Warden next to him wasn't fast enough—he screamed, barrier failing, flames consuming him.
"SPREAD OUT!" Captain Mira roared. "They're targeting concentrations!"
But it wasn't a concentration. It was Nolan. The mage was targeting him specifically.
Another fireball, this one faster. Nolan rolled, felt the heat sear his back even through armor. His own power surged in response, blue energy exploding outward without conscious direction—a barrier, a blast, something that intercepted the flames and dispersed them.
The cultist mage's eyes widened. Then he smiled.
And pointed directly at Nolan while shouting something to his companions.
He knows, Nolan realized with sinking dread. He recognizes my power. He knows what I am.
"Nolan, fall back!" Selene was beside him, sword blazing as she deflected another attack. "Something's wrong, they're focusing you—"
"I know!" He couldn't explain why. Couldn't tell her the truth. "Just—we need to move!"
But where? The cultist mages had locked onto him, were coordinating their attacks, trying to drive him into a corner. And below in the courtyard, more cultists were turning, pointing, organizing.
They'd found their target. The bearer of the seal.
And they weren't going to let him leave.