The sky-palace cut through the edge of the storm like a blade. Dark clouds boiled around its hull, lightning flashing in the distance. Aiden stood on the forward deck, cloak snapping in the wind, watching the valley below.
Three factions waited down there, each convinced the Golden Womb belonged to them. He intended to prove them wrong.
Nyra stepped up beside him. Her shadow mantle rippled even in the gale. "Scouts confirm the positions. Pure Church at the outer temple, warlords around the supply ridges, fracture-seers at the central spire. They're not unified."
"Good," Aiden said. "Elizabeth?"
She joined them, maps already unrolled on a stone table weighted against the wind. "We hit them tonight. Sabotage first, then we take the prize at dawn. No heroics. We weaken, divide, and strike."
