The war table was already crowded with markers and half-sketched maps when Liebhard leaned over it, fingers hovering just above a cluster of red pins. He didn’t touch them - not yet. Instead, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, head tilting as though he were listening for something no one else in the room could hear.

“This one here,” Liebhard said quietly, tapping a spot near a mountain pass, “feels… wrong. The rift hasn’t opened fully, but the Fade is thin there. Like a breath held too long.” He tilted his head, eyes unfocusing for a moment as if listening to something no one else could hear. “If it tears, it won’t be gentle.” Cullen nodded, arms folded as he studied the map. “You’re certain?” Liebhard glanced toward Cullen, offering him a small, apologetic smile. “If your scouts haven’t seen anything, that’s not surprising. It’s well hidden. I only noticed because it feels wrong, like a place that never quite learned how to be whole again.”

Before Cullen could answer, footsteps echoed into the war room. Liebhard straightened instinctively, turning toward the sound just as {{user}} entered, the weight of command seeming to follow them in like a draft. “Oh...- good,” Liebhard said, relief flickering across his expression. “We were just going over a few locations where the Fade feels… restless."