"Overcharge it," Kaelren says. "We won't need a second charge if the tunnel team reaches the core."
Rhyven nods and relays the order. The technician adjusts something in the ward channel, and the amber glow at their feet brightens by a shade. I listen. Their exchange is familiar to me now, the way Kaelren and Rhyven speak the same language of defense logistics, the way they communicate in numbers and contingencies and worst-case scenarios. These are men who have been planning for war their entire lives. They are very good at it.
But good isn't enough. Not against something that thinks like them.
I pull Kaelren aside when Rhyven moves to brief his shield teams.
"We're missing something," I say.
"I know."
"The tunnel approach, the anchor, the core assault. It's a solid plan. It's a good plan. And it's exactly the kind of plan the Cathedral will anticipate."
"I know that, too." His jaw tightens. "I've been running alternatives all day. Every scenario I model ends the same way. The core adapts, the anchor fails, the Cathedral pushes through. Because every scenario I model is built from the same tactical framework that the core was built from."
"So stop modeling."
He looks at me. "That's not how I operate."
"I know. That's the problem."
We stand there in the fading light, the ward channels humming at our feet, the sky darkening above us.
"We can't do this alone," I say. "We need more people, and not just soldiers. Not just defenders. We need people who know us. Who fight differently than the Verdance fights. Who can do things the Cathedral hasn't seen in previous cycles."
Kaelren's expression shifts. "If my crew were here," he says, and stops. Starts again. "Bryx. Sarnyx. Nimor. Vashael. Eltrien. They each bring something different. Sarnyx fights like nothing the Cathedral has faced. Bryx's sonic abilities could disrupt the Root constructs. Eltrien understands the Rootline mechanics better than anyone alive. Vashael's poisons could slow the regeneration. Nimor can move through shadow in ways that don't register as a tactical approach."
Kaelren shakes his head. "It's impossible. Half the crew is in Wynmire. Bryx is with Leo and Sarah on Earth. The Rootline connects them in theory, but there's no mechanism to pull people across from here. Not without the Elm Gate. Not without..."
He trails off. We look at each other.
"Thalia," I say.
We find her in the Heartwood chamber, alone. The council has dispersed to their positions. The maps and diagrams have been cleared from the table, replaced by a single sheet of paperwith Thalia's handwriting on it. A list of names, positions, and fallback protocols.
She looks up when we enter. "What is it?" she says.
"We need my crew," Kaelren says. "All of them. Sarnyx, Nimor, Vashael, Eltrien. And Bryx, Mora, Leo, and Sarah, from Earth."
Thalia is quiet for a moment. Her hands rest on the table, flat and still.
"They're spread across two realms," she says. "The Rootline connects them, but pulling living beings across dimensional boundaries requires power I've never channeled at that distance. The Elm Gate in Elle's grandmother's garden is the only stable cross-point between Wynmire and Earth, and from here, I'd be reaching across the full length of the Rootline to connect to it."
"Can you do it?" I ask.
She doesn't answer immediately. She looks at her hands on the table. At the marks running down her forearms, Root green threaded with the thin dark lines she inherited from her father. She flexes her fingers, and the marks pulse once.
"I've anchored ward lines. I've stabilized collapsing structures. I've held breaches in the iteration boundary shut with nothing but my hands and the Rootline's cooperation." She looks up. "I've never tried to open a passage across two realms and pull eight people through it. The power required would be..." She pauses. "Significant."
"What's the cost?" Kaelren asks. The same question he asked in the council meeting. The one he always asks, because he needs to know the price before he lets someone pay it.
"I don't know. That's the honest answer. At minimum, I'll be exhausted. At maximum, it could weaken my ability to anchor the Cathedral when the time comes." She holds his gaze. "But if you're telling me the plan doesn't work without them, then therisk of pulling them through is smaller than the risk of facing the Cathedral alone."
"We wouldn't ask if there were another way," I say.
"I know." She stands. Something settles behind her eyes. The commander stepping into the daughter, or the daughter stepping into the commander. With Thalia, the line between them has always been thinner than she lets on. "There's a place. Beneath the Heartwood. A root nexus where the Verdance's connection to the Rootline is strongest. If I'm going to reach across two realms, that's where I do it."
She leads us through a passage I haven't seen before. The corridor narrows and the living wood thickens around us. The walls pressing closer; the air growing warmer and denser with the smell of sap and deep earth. The golden pulse of the root-paths intensifies with each step, the veins in the floor glowing brighter, until the corridor opens into a chamber at the very base of the Heartwood's root system.
