The guild transport hummed along the coastal highway, leaving the rusted bones of the western badlands far behind. Ahead, the sky was a bruised, troubled grey, threatening of rain pour and flickering with distant, silent lightning.
Nathan sat near the back of the bus, staring out the window. Against his wrist, the new Mana Capacitor pulsed with a faint, steady rhythm. It was a physical reminder of the hard ceiling he had hit three days ago.
Three days since the Iron Horde. Three days since Clamour's cold smile and the crushing weight of that ancient Treant.
They had reported the encounter to Valerie the moment they returned. She had listened in absolute silence, her expression tightening with every detail. When Nathan finished, she simply stared at her desk for a long time.
