10-18-2025, 10:14 PM
The Dominions had already been briefed. The reason for this rare convocation carried weight enough to silence questions, not that anyone would dare question the Ascendancy's orders. To meet with a member of the Atharim was unusual. To meet with one of their self-proclaimed leaders was unprecedented.
The Garden was a secret base of operations, but today the business of the site was silenced. Civilians were rarely permitted, and only then by exceptional mandate. Eliot was a channeler, but how strong and skilled, Nikolai had no idea. He barely trusted Nox, and that trust had been forged through trial and time, ground out like steel on a whetstone. That it existed at all bordered on miraculous. To expect another miracle now would be foolish.
The meeting would take place beneath the open sky, exposed to the elements, on a stretch of open yard that felt as ceremonial as it was strategic. Staff and soldiers had been ordered from view. Even the equipment was relocated. Only wind moved, and even that seemed hesitant. In the distance, a storm was building like a mountain deciding whether to walk.
Nikolai was waiting, flanked by the three Dominions, their line stiff and silent, like specters conjured from a forgotten age. All four wore matching woolen coats of deep charcoal, collars rimmed with thick black fur. Nikolai’s coat bore the double crescent pin of his station, its gold and orange glinting dully in the grey light. Fur-lined gloves hid his hands, and atop his head rested an Ushanka, its flaps folded up atop his head. He cut a stark figure with his expression alone, but his eyes ere like frozen coals beneath the fur brim. He stood not like a man awaiting parley, but like one prepared to withstand a siege.
But he was willing to meet it nonetheless.
The Garden was a secret base of operations, but today the business of the site was silenced. Civilians were rarely permitted, and only then by exceptional mandate. Eliot was a channeler, but how strong and skilled, Nikolai had no idea. He barely trusted Nox, and that trust had been forged through trial and time, ground out like steel on a whetstone. That it existed at all bordered on miraculous. To expect another miracle now would be foolish.
The meeting would take place beneath the open sky, exposed to the elements, on a stretch of open yard that felt as ceremonial as it was strategic. Staff and soldiers had been ordered from view. Even the equipment was relocated. Only wind moved, and even that seemed hesitant. In the distance, a storm was building like a mountain deciding whether to walk.
Nikolai was waiting, flanked by the three Dominions, their line stiff and silent, like specters conjured from a forgotten age. All four wore matching woolen coats of deep charcoal, collars rimmed with thick black fur. Nikolai’s coat bore the double crescent pin of his station, its gold and orange glinting dully in the grey light. Fur-lined gloves hid his hands, and atop his head rested an Ushanka, its flaps folded up atop his head. He cut a stark figure with his expression alone, but his eyes ere like frozen coals beneath the fur brim. He stood not like a man awaiting parley, but like one prepared to withstand a siege.
But he was willing to meet it nonetheless.