Ashes and Thrones

Three reads. Four. The numbers refused to change. They never did—just like the Progenitors had warned in their final records. A civilization that had raised the Wurm Lords from primordial darkness to serve as weapons, then lost control of them, then spent ten thousand years engineering a solution before vanishing. They'd left humanity trapped between extinction and endless sacrifice, their texts cold with the precision of architects who'd already accepted the inevitable.

"Five years."

Damien shifted uncomfortably. He ran his thumb along the burn scar on his wrist—the one from the night the Karthian capital fell, when he'd pulled his research from the flames and lost everything else. Wife. Two young sons. Parents. The scar had healed crooked, the way grief healed. He'd spent the past week running calculations, checking historical records, cross-referencing Progenitor texts. "Maybe less. The seal degradation is accelerating. I don't know why. Maybe the Unmaking Engine strained the seals more than we thought. Maybe the Wurm Lords are actively working to break free. But the timeline is clear. Five years until catastrophic failure."

Cael set the report down. His hands were steady. Twenty years since the seal ritual claimed nine thousand volunteers and the survivors founded New Haven from the ashes. Five months since Tomas died—and before that, he'd been shaking constantly. Nightmares every night. Seeing the volunteers walking into the seal chambers. Seeing Tomas's face—gaunt and gray in those last days, the fever consuming what the underground couldn't.

Now? Nothing. Just numbness.

Maybe that was worse.

"You're certain?" Cael asked.

"I've checked fifty times. Different methods. Different assumptions. It always comes out the same. Five years. Maybe four if the acceleration continues."

"What do we do?"

"We need resources. Scholars. Progenitor artifacts. Research." Damien pulled another stack of papers from his satchel. "I've found references in the Progenitor texts to something called the Unmaking Engine. A permanent sealing mechanism, deep in the Forge complex. If we can find it and power it with artifacts—power cores—we might fix the seals for good."

Cael's stomach turned. They'd bought peace with nine thousand lives. Nine thousand volunteers who'd walked into the seal chambers knowing they wouldn't come back. And Tomas—who'd survived the ritual itself—had died of fever weeks later, wasting away in the infirmary while Cael sat beside him for nine days.

Now the seals were failing anyway?

"How long before we need to tell the Council?" Cael stood. Walked to the window. New Haven sprawled below—the largest settlement in a valley two hundred miles across, ringed by volcanic peaks and corrupted wasteland. Three thousand people here. Below, the morning market was already stirring—vendors setting up stalls of ash-grown root vegetables and dried meats, a baker's chimney sending the smell of sourdough into the sulfur-tinged air, children chasing each other around the central fountain where women gathered water. Twenty settlements across the Confederation, scattered through the habitable pockets where the green corruption hadn't yet spread.

People who'd finally found peace. Hope. A chance to rebuild.

And he had to tell them it was temporary.

"We have time," Damien said carefully. "Months. But we need to start preparing now. Gathering artifacts. Training scholars. Building infrastructure. When we announce it—when panic inevitably spreads—we need to present solutions alongside the problem."

Cael understood. If they announced "five years until demons return" without a plan, the Confederation would fracture. People would flee. Settlements would collapse. The fragile cooperation they'd built would shatter.

But if they gathered resources first. Found artifacts. Prepared the Engine. Showed people a path forward.

"Keep it quiet," Cael decided. "You, me, Mira, Garren, Harren. No one else. We gather what we need first. Then we tell the Council. Present the problem and the solution together."

"That's a lot of secrets for the man who promised transparency."

"I know." Cael's voice was flat. "Add it to the list of promises I've broken."

Damien hesitated. "Cael. This isn't your fault. You didn't cause the seals to fail. You're doing everything you can."