- Garrika POV -

The flying vessel cut through the snowstorm as if the sky had no right to resist it.

Wind struck the hull again and again, but the ship barely shifted. Silver runes burned along its dark-gray plates each time the storm pressed harder, spreading across the metal in thin patterns before swallowing the impact. It did not look noble. That was the first thing Garrika had thought when she saw it.

There were no gilded railings, no family banners, no carved beasts to make some lord feel important while crossing the sky. It was a Council vessel, functional and reinforced, ugly in the way reliable things often were.

Garrika sat with one boot braced against the floor, fingers resting over the straps of her gauntlets while her tail moved behind her in slow, controlled sweeps. She had learned quickly that Eldric noticed restless habits. He noticed everything, which made being in the same room as him annoying and useful in equal measure.

Around her sat the first version of the First Concord.

None of them looked like parade soldiers. That was probably the point.

Across from her, Ilyra von Senn had a long mana rifle resting across her lap. Human, brown skin, short dark-red hair, one eye covered by a thin focusing lens that glowed whenever she adjusted it. She had spent half the flight checking the rifle with the patience of someone who wanted to shoot something and hated waiting for permission.

Beside her sat Narak du Molven, a dwarf with thick arms, a compact body, and a short black beard tied with copper clips. Mechanical braces covered both forearms, layered with cutters, seal-breakers, controlled charges, and tiny tools Garrika did not recognize. He had already muttered several times that if the attackers had damaged the train’s inner mechanisms, he would break their knees before anyone else killed them.

Near the rear, Saaren di Vhal kept a medical case across his knees. He was a vampire with pale skin, black hair cut to the jaw, and red eyes so calm they made the bloodstained future ahead seem like an appointment. White gloves covered his hands. Garrika had the impression he could stand in a room full of corpses and complain only if someone wasted clean bandages.

Meka au Rhell crouched near the hatch instead of sitting properly. Hawk-blooded beastkin, lean body, gold eyes, small feather-like marks along her arms and neck. Every part of her seemed pointed toward the door, as if the ship itself had become an insult because it kept her from jumping.

Toval di Kest stood with a folded mana shield on his back. Dark red skin, short horns, broad shoulders, and the quiet of someone who did not need to fill air with words. He had spoken little since they took off, and every sentence had been useful.

Two others checked equipment farther back without drawing much attention. Garrika knew their names, but not enough of them yet. The First Concord was still raw. Eight people gathered under one name, told to become a unit before the world had time to decide whether it feared them.

And in front of them stood Eldric au Veyr.

The Calamity Cartographer.

Garrika had met strong people before. Trafalgar was strong in that unfair way that made danger feel like it had chosen the wrong person to approach. Valttair du Morgain was the kind of man even stories did not need to exaggerate because the truth already sounded ridiculous.

Eldric was different.

He did not feel like a drawn sword. He felt like the man who already knew where every sword in the room would fail.

A hovering projection floated before him, made from white-gray lines and suspended dust. The storm, the train, broken mana routes, damaged outer lines, emergency seals, passenger cars, cargo section, all of it formed in incomplete layers above the table. Some parts were clear. Others flickered, uncertain, as if the disaster itself had not finished revealing its shape.

Eldric’s gray eyes moved through the map.

"The explosion came from the cargo section," he said, voice carrying through the cabin despite the storm outside. "It was not meant to destroy the train. It was meant to force emergency reduction and lock the route. Sleeping gas has spread through several cars. Civilian deaths are confirmed. Hostile teams are inside. This is no longer only a robbery."

Garrika’s ears angled forward.

This was it.

Their first true deployment.

The train had been crippled in the middle of a snow region, and the First Concord was being sent into it before the rest of the world even understood what was happening.

Her fingers tightened over her gauntlet strap.

Two months ago, she had been sitting across from Trafalgar inside the shop, telling him she would join the Wardens because she wanted to become someone who could stand closer to him. She had told him not to answer her feelings yet. She had asked for time.

Now she was here, inside a Council vessel heading toward a terrorist attack.

She had not seen Trafalgar since that conversation. . Sometimes she wondered whether he had thought about what she said. Knowing him, he probably had, but in that calm, irritating way of his that made it impossible to tell what he actually felt.

She did not know if he was on the train.

The report mentioned a Velkaris Academy delegation. That could mean him. It could also mean Selara and other students without him. Her tail gave one sharper movement before she forced it still.

Eldric looked at her.

"If you have doubts, get rid of them before we land," he said. "Doubt makes people hesitate, and hesitation puts your companions in danger."

The cabin grew quieter.

Garrika tightened her jaw, but she did not answer with anger. A few months ago, maybe she would have. Before the war, certainly. Now she breathed through her nose and kept her hands over the straps of her gauntlets.

Ilyra clicked her tongue from across the cabin.

"Hey, Eldric. Don’t be so hard on her. She’s still young."

Eldric did not even turn his head. "Young people die too."

"Yeah, and old commanders become unbearable when no one interrupts them." Ilyra leaned back with the mana rifle across her lap, the focusing lens over one eye glowing faintly. "Don’t worry about us, wolf girl. We’ll cover you."

Garrika looked toward her.

Ilyra gave a small motion with two fingers, almost like a lazy salute.

Garrika let the air leave her lungs slowly. Her tail steadied.

"You won’t have to cover me because of my mistake."

"Perfect," Ilyra said. "I like working less."

The vessel descended lower.

The storm swallowed the windows, snow striking the glass in thick waves while the runes along the hull glowed brighter. The train appeared beneath them all at once, long and dark against the white world, its emergency lights flickering through the storm. Part of the cargo section still smoked, the damage spreading like a black bruise across pale metal.

The train had not derailed, but it looked wounded.

Garrika rose.

The hatch mechanisms unlocked with a heavy sound, and cold tore into the cabin before the door fully opened.

Meka smiled for the first time. "Finally."

She jumped first.

The hawk-blooded scout vanished into the storm, her body cutting downward with a grace that made the snowfall seem slow around her.

Ilyra moved toward the firing rail, rifle unfolding with a low metallic purr. Narak cursed at the sight of the damaged cargo car. Saaren’s expression did not change, though his eyes were already searching for safe entry points. Toval’s shield expanded behind him with a deep blue glow.

Garrika stepped to the edge.

The cold hit her face, and beneath it came the smell of metal, snow, smoke, fear and blood.

Her body answered before her thoughts finished naming it. Ears raised. Tail steady. Muscles ready.

This was not the shop. This was not Velkaris after a night job. This was the First Concord’s first real answer to the world.

Eldric stood beside her, coat snapping in the wind while pale lines of his magic drew a path down toward the train.

"Move," he said.

Garrika jumped.

The storm swallowed her as the train below grew closer with every breath.