Another few days passed, steeped in preparation.
The scouting force from Solis was closing in—paladins and a Seeker, swift and righteous, eager to satisfy their king and their own righteousness. And if even one of them caught a glimpse of the truth hiding behind the glamour, all their progress could come undone.
But the kingdom was adapting accordingly.
The generals spread outward, scattering like watchful sentinels along the outer perimeter. Aria took the northeast, vanishing into the border woods with her Shadow Fangs—traps, illusions, and false trails woven behind her like a spider's web. Krux held the southeastern ridge, his golden eyes keen from atop a reinforced watchtower. Damon stationed his patrols along the shifting roadways, masking stone and trail alike. Mal settled farther west, where the mana currents twisted unnaturally—there, he worked his craft, rerouting leyline residue and siphoning ambient energy into anchoring stones to feed the city's concealment.
