The stone hall was lit by blazing braziers, casting long shadows across the walls. The war table dominated the center, covered in maps and reports. At that moment, it felt as if the weight of the entire Empire had fallen on the few gathered there.

  Luiz, arms crossed, studied the supply routes. Valquíria sat on the back of a chair, swinging her leg with boredom. Adriele kept a firm expression, eyes fixed on the notes. And Lukas… stood behind it all, his fist pressed hard against the edge of the table.

  — “So that’s it,” Valquíria finally said. “Four enemy fortresses along the old border of the Roraima Mountains. And rumors that the Eleventh Disaster survived.”

  The name echoed through the hall like thunder. The soldiers guarding the door exchanged tense glances.

  — “They’re not just rumors,” Luiz added, picking up a scroll and throwing it on the table. “Here. Reports of caravans attacked. The few survivors spoke of a man wrapped in a cloak of shadow, walking through flames… calling out our father’s name.”

  Lukas’s chest burned. He said nothing. Just closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

  Adriele ran a hand through her hair.

  — “He wants to finish what he started in Sorriso.”

  Valquíria leaned forward, her gaze locked on Lukas.

  — “Well? You gonna stand there, little brother? Or admit you won’t kill this thing alone?”

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  — “I never said I’d go alone,” Lukas rasped. “But I won’t accept help from just anyone either. Whoever comes with me needs to understand… we won’t stop until every inch of this cursed border is cleansed.”

  For a moment, silence reigned. Then Valquíria broke it with a low laugh.

  — “Hahaha… He really grew up, Luiz. Before, he’d cry if someone yelled at him. Now he almost looks like a little tyrant.”

  Luiz smirked.

  — “I preferred when he just cried. Gave me less trouble.”

  — “I still cry,” Lukas said, not turning around. “I just learned to do it when no one’s looking.”

  The words landed heavy on everyone’s chest. Valquíria sighed and hopped down from the chair.

  — “…Fine. Listen here, Lukinhas.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going with you. Not because I want to, but because if you die, it’ll be a pain hearing our little sister cry about it.” — She pointed her chin toward Adriele.

  Adriele flushed, indignant.

  — “I don’t cry that much!”

  — “Yes, you do,” Luiz said flatly. “But that’s fine. I’m going too. I won’t let my little brother become a premature legend.”

  Lukas lifted his eyes. The three of them stared back — Valquíria with mockery, Luiz with pragmatism, Adriele with restrained affection. But all of them said the same thing:

  “You won’t go alone.”

  Before Lukas could answer, another voice echoed through the hall:

  — “What a touching scene.”

  Morgana.

  She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling that mix of tenderness and cruelty.

  — “You make so many plans…” she said, walking closer. “But you forget none of them matter unless you have someone who understands how the Tower thinks.”

  Valquíria arched a brow.

  — “And that would be you?”

  — “Better than anyone.” Morgana traced a finger across the map, drawing a line over the Roraima Mountains. “You see these walls, these routes… and think this is war. But the Tower doesn’t fight like humans. Not even like monsters. It breathes. It feeds on the fear of those who dare step inside.”

  Lukas stared at her in silence. For a moment, he almost forgot to hate her.

  — “Then why are you here?” he asked, voice low.

  Morgana’s smile softened.

  — “Because I want to see how far you’ll go.” She tilted her head. “Because if I’m going to die… I’d rather it be at your side.”

  Silence fell again. But this time, it wasn’t empty.

  Luiz cleared his throat.

  — “Fine.” He slapped the table. “Then it’s decided. We leave tomorrow. Whoever wants to come… better know: they might not return.”

  Valquíria extended her hand to Lukas.

  — “Come on, Lukinhas. Before you start crying again. Let’s eat something. You’ll need strength.”

  He looked at her… and, for the first time in days, let out a weak laugh.

  — “Idiot.”

  End of Chapter 1.