Snow swirled outside the windows of the High War Council chamber, a slow, silent storm of powdered ice drifting down from the gray heavens above. The temperature in the room, however, was anything but cold.
"What do you mean they vanished?" General Yakov bellowed, pounding a leather-bound fist onto the oak table. "We had two trained operatives! You said they would blend in!"
"They did blend in," Lord Pavel Orlov snapped. "And that's precisely why no one saw them again. They were swallowed whole."
The council fell into uneasy silence.
Seated at the head of the table, Tsar Mikhail III steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His expression remained unreadable. "So," he said softly, "Elysea has a shadow network."
"They've always had whispers," Orlov muttered. "But this? This was something else. We underestimated Bruno."
