You spend the morning planning.

Theron produces maps of Eldermoor—merchant’s maps, showing the streets and alleys and hidden passages that most citizens never see. “If we’re going to get close to the gem, we need to know the terrain.”

“The gem sits in the central square,” you explain, tracing the familiar streets with your finger. “But since the ceremony, since the attack… I don’t know what’s changed.”

“Assume the worst,” Mira says. “Varek will have forces. Shadow creatures, corrupted citizens, magical defenses. Whatever hit the ceremony was just a taste.”

“Then we need allies,” Wren says. “People inside the city. A resistance.”

“There will be one.” You’re certain of this. “Elder Corvus, the council members who survived—they won’t have surrendered. Eldermoor’s people are stubborn.”

“Like someone I know,” Theron says with a faint smile.

You ignore him. “So we approach carefully. Enter the city in small groups. Make contact with the resistance. And then…”

“And then we assault the most heavily defended point in the city, enter a magical gem, and fight an enemy who’s had three hundred years to prepare.” Mira’s voice is dry. “Simple.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No. I just want everyone to understand what we’re walking into.”

Silence falls. The weight of what’s coming settles over the group.

“There’s one more thing,” you say. “The sacrifice. Someone needs to volunteer to contain the release when the Binding breaks.”

“I’ll do it.” The words come from three directions at once—Mira, Theron, and Wren, all speaking together.

They look at each other, startled.

“I have the least to lose,” Mira says quickly. “No family. No home. Just the hunt.”

“I’ve been running from responsibility my whole life,” Theron counters. “Time I stopped.”

“The forest will survive without me,” Wren says quietly. “Thornwen’s Seed will grow with or without my guidance.”

You hold up your hand. “Stop. All of you.”