Katherina stood where night and mist met. Figures in dark robes formed a ring, faces hidden, their voices thin as wind. Smoke crawled between them, curling like living memory.
"We must make the meeting a grave for both kings," Katherina said softly. Her words slid over the silence and sank in.
"When they clash, their armies will break. From the wreckage, a new order will rise."
A faceless one bent forward, replying without a name. "We will lock the paths. Rivers will shift. Minds will fracture. They will kill each other before they know what hit them."
Katherina's lips twisted into a small, hard smile. "Pain opens doors. Use it. Let doubt thicken their courage. Whisper false signs. Let brothers mistrust brothers. The moment they charge, we let the shadow strike."
Another voice, older and hollow, added, "What of the Moon's chosen? Her fury grows. She could burn any hope."
