Maddox's fist hit the war table so hard the obsidian cracked.
The sound split the chamber. Iron markers jumped. Maps slid. A water pitcher on the far end toppled and shattered against the stone floor, and no one in the room flinched.
He pulled his hand free. Blood ran from his knuckles where the stone had cut. He did not look at it.
"Again."
Sterling stepped forward. The map he unrolled was new, drawn in the last four hours, annotated in his handwriting with an ink color that meant confirmed and another that meant probable.
"The fae portals we've catalogued from the battle number thirty-seven. Twenty-two opened and closed within seconds, consistent with individual transit. Fifteen remained open for longer, which suggests group movement or cargo. The exit points we've been able to trace converge on a region beneath the Mordhaen mountain range, approximately four hundred miles northwest of Kael's current stronghold."
