The room was heavy with silent contemplation as they all struggled to form a plan of action.
They had transitioned to the round table in the center of the hut. Anthony, who sat directly across from Bennan, unclasped his hands and leaned back in his chair with a quiet sigh.
"So we can't just locate the majority of its vessels and attack it?" he asked, looking at Bennan.
"The issue is that it's probably already hidden a few vessels out in the wastes," Bennan replied. He could feel the weight of their gazes settle on him as he continued. "It remembers everything from the people it takes. Any direct action—especially an attack—would alert it that we have a way to track it. You could keep killing it, but it's incredibly intelligent. Every time humanity finds a way to detect it, it creates a way around it."
Wind Flower inhaled slowly.
"Hmm, so even something as simple as a roll call—just checking who's missing—would be too out of the ordinary," she said softly. "It would tip it off."
Saint Lyil, who had been leaning back in his chair with his arms folded in silence, finally spoke.
"We could wait for King Daeron's return," he said gruffly. "We're the only ones who know he's arriving early. The beast might still be working under the same assumption as everyone else."
"Daeron?" Bennan asked, looking toward Anthony.
"Daeron of the Twilight Sea," he replied. "Wind Flower's father. He left the outpost with the two other Saints that accompanied us here. He's off scouting a path to the Great Sable Pyramid."
A faint feeling of relief stirred in Bennan's chest as he turned to Wind Flower.
"Well, that's great. Just summon your communication Memory and ask him to come back here. With three extra Saints, even Skin Walker would have trouble doing anything."
He waited for her reply, holding her gaze. To his surprise, she simply stared at him, her face still and unchanging. Tense moments passed before she finally shook her head and replied.
"We know nothing of communication Memories. It's not something the Spell has ever granted us. Our enchanters' sorcery is limited… but they've managed to create mirrors we can communicate through."
She hesitated for just a breath.
"But two days ago, during the first attack… it was specifically targeted. It was destroyed."
Silver-bind enchantments. How quaint.
The voice in his head chuckled.
Bennan frowned and glared inwardly. After a few moments of silence, he assumed Specter got the message.
He sank back into his chair. As he began to contemplate their next move, Lyil spoke again.
"You're wrong about one thing, boy. Daeron is no Saint. He's a Supreme. I think waiting for his return is our best course of action. Some will be Taken, yes—but it might be less than if we try to flush it out and fail."
"No!"
Wind Flower slammed her hand on the table.
Taking a moment to compose herself, she straightened in her seat and continued.
"I won't quietly hand over any more of our people to that monster. Its intelligence means little to me."
She turned to Anthony, her voice calm and icy.
"Tomorrow, I want you to find every last one of its vessels that you can. We'll root them out. Then we'll do a roll call to see who's missing. We'll keep culling until Daeron returns—in four days. Until then, Bennan's your problem."
A look of shock washed over Anthony's usually jovial face.
"B-but… Lady Wind Flower, he's your servant, is he not?" he asked, scratching his chin.
"Not anymore."
Her voice was flat.
"He's useless to me as a servant now. So he's your problem. Take him, and start your rounds."
Anthony stood, a bit stiffly, and gave a short bow. He made his way around the table and stopped next to Bennan, glancing at him with a raised brow.
Not entirely sure how to feel about being called someone's "problem," Bennan stood up awkwardly and followed Anthony toward the door of the hut.
As it opened, he was hit by a wave of heat—thick, dry, and almost crippling.