The War Hall remained sealed.
Only the Stormguard's inner circle stood within its stone embrace. Chaghan. The five wardens. The five disciples. And Altan, silent beneath the banners of the Gale.
The torches flickered low, casting long shadows across the war map. No scribe recorded what would be said here. This was not strategy. It was declaration.
Altan stepped forward.
"We are past the age of survival," he said. "Now we must become the storm."
He looked first to Chaghan.
"You will retain your mantle as First Stormguard and Supreme Warden. In this war, you are my blade and shield."
Chaghan bowed without a word.
Altan turned his gaze to the five wardens.
"Your ranks will shift. You are no longer just keepers of doctrine. You are now masters of war."
He pointed to the First Warden.
"You will take command of the northern front. As Warden of the North, you will secure the border passes and establish forward camps in the mountain corridors. Hold the northern line. The Zhong will push from there first."
"To the Second Warden, your charge is the South. You are now Warden of the South. The lands there are harsh: sun-blasted plains, shifting dunes, dry canyons, and salt-ravaged winds. Heat and scarcity are as deadly as steel. Fortify the oases. Patrol the dust routes. Secure the lifelines. Do not let the southern tribes be turned."
The Second Warden bowed.
Altan turned to the Third.
"You are Warden of the East. The Free Cities look to us now. You will speak for Gale. Organize their levies, manage their defenses. You will not only lead, you will represent."
He paused.
"To the Fourth Warden, your command is the spine of the war effort. You will remain in Gale Citadel as Master of Recruits and Logistics. Without supply, there is no victory. Every blade, every ration, every squire comes through your hands now. And those who fail the Crucible will not be cast aside, they will be given another chance. They will become the new Stormguard squires, trained for support and future trials. You will also coordinate directly with the steward. He alone will open the gates to the Crucible. No one enters without your mark."
"To the Fifth, your duty is unchanged. You remain Master of the Stormguard Hospitaliers. But now your reach will grow. You will oversee the Black Vein fortresses and train new triage battalions. None will fall without aid."
The Fifth bowed, deeply.
Then Altan turned to the disciples.
"To Wen Tu, I name you the Sixth Warden. Master of the Stormcasters. You will command the legion of war mages and elemental shamans. Your role is not destruction alone. It is precision. Strike where the enemy thinks themselves untouchable."
Wen Tu bowed, humbled and silent.
"Ryoku," Altan continued, "You are now the Seventh Warden. Master of the Stormriders. The heavy cavalry shall ride under your command. You will train them. Break them. And lead them when the plains run red."
Ryoku's hand closed over his heart. "I will not fail them."
Altan looked next to Kael.
"You will be the Eighth Warden. Master of Assassins. Your legion will operate in the shadows: silent, unseen, and absolute. Sabotage. Elimination. Silence where words cannot reach. You will choose your own and train them well."
Kael gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable, already vanishing behind quiet purpose.
Then he addressed the final two.
"Bruga. Nyzekh."
The chamber fell still. The two disciples straightened, sensing what lay ahead.
"You will not yet take command," Altan said, voice steady. "Your legions are not yet built. Your paths are not yet written."
Bruga nodded once, his eyes smoldering with quiet fire. Nyzekh gave no answer. He simply faded half a step back into the shadow of the pillar behind him.
Altan looked at them all.
"You are not bound by your past ranks anymore. You are no longer five wardens and five disciples. You are the Circle. The inner storm. From this point forward, you will act with authority across our lands, legions, and allies."
He let the weight of silence settle before continuing.
"All new squires and recruits, those from the academies, adventurer halls, tribal militias, even the street-born with promise, will enter the Crucible. There, they will be tested. Not just in strength, but in will. Those who endure shall emerge as true Stormguard. Those who fail will become the next generation of Stormguard squires. Their time will come."
He turned to Ryoku, Wen Tu, and Kael.
"From this new generation, your legions will be formed. Ryoku. Wen Tu. Kael. The Crucible is yours to oversee. You will choose who is worthy to bear your mantle. Within one month, the five existing legions of the Stormguard will double to ten. Three new legions will be formed under your direct command. This is how we rise. This is how we answer the storm."
"For Wen Tu, the war mages and shamans who served in the auxiliary will be given the choice to join your new legion. If they decline, they will remain within the Stormguard as auxiliary support."
"For Kael, you will draw from squires and recruits, those with no elemental affinity and those with certain affinities suitable for the work of shadow. You will forge them into assassins."
Altan took a step back.
"Chaghan. Nyzekh. Bruga. Kael. Warden of the South. Warden of the East. Warden of the Hospitaliers, you will remain."
The others bowed and exited in silence. The inner circle tightened.
Altan's eyes burned with quiet intensity.
"The next storm will not wait. We move before it breaks."
Above them, the banners stirred.
And far above the Citadel, the storm began to gather.