Chains of Divinity

The war council had been going for hours. Maps and reports cluttered the ancient oak table, each one worse than the last. King Aldric rubbed his temples, trying to focus on Thane Duran's latest update.

"We lost contact with the eastern granaries," the dwarven leader reported. "Supply lines are cut. Three hundred soldiers trapped when the roads... changed." He pointed to marked positions. "Can't even get close enough to see if anyone survived."

"What about the southern route?" Aldric asked.

"Too risky." Lady Sylvaria tapped the map where their last caravan had disappeared. "Whatever's happening to the land, it's spreading faster. We send more men in, we lose more men."

A guard entered with another dispatch. Aldric read it, his face tightening. "Western garrison's gone. Not destroyed - transformed. Thirty survivors out of two hundred."

"Bloody hell." Thane Duran's beard quivered. "That's our strongest fortification."

"Was," Blackthorn corrected quietly.

The chamber fell silent save for the scratching of quills as scribes updated their casualty lists. Practical concerns pressed in: How to feed people when farmland crystallized? Where to house refugees when settlements transformed? How to maintain basic order when reality itself turned against them?

"The void-touched could help," Lady Sylvaria said finally. "Their forces know how to move through transformed territories. They could at least get supplies to the outlying settlements."

"And abandon our own research?" Blackthorn challenged. "All our work on replicating their power-"

"What work?" Aldric cut in. "Six failed attempts. Hundreds of wasted resources. Meanwhile our people die because we're too proud to admit we need real help."

A messenger arrived with fresh reports. More land transformed. More settlements lost. More refugees fleeing toward the capital with stories of ground turning crystalline beneath their feet.

"We can't hold this position." Thane Duran's voice was gruff but certain. "Not anymore. Not alone."

"The people fear void-touched chaos," Blackthorn warned.

"The people fear starving when their farms turn geometric," Aldric replied. "They fear watching their children disappear when reality rewrites itself." He studied the maps again, calculating distances and resources. "How long before the capital's surrounded?"

"Three days," Lady Sylvaria estimated. "Maybe four if the eastern pass holds."

"It won't," Thane Duran grunted. "Not against what's coming."

Aldric nodded slowly. "Send word to our outposts. Any settlements still standing are to be evacuated along protected routes. Gather what supplies we can." He paused, weighing each word. "And send to Kael. Tell him we need his forces' help moving our people to safety."

"Full cooperation?" Lady Sylvaria asked carefully.

"Full." Aldric's mouth twisted. "No more games. No more secret research. We commit everything to stopping divine law's spread or we lose everything trying to stay neutral."

The scribes bent to their work, recording orders and updates. Outside the chamber, messengers waited to carry word to distant outposts. The mortal kingdoms would commit all resources to supporting void-touched forces - not with speeches or ceremonies, but with the quiet urgency of people trying to save what they could.