The Grand Sanctuary of the Icarus cult extended far deeper beneath Verath than even its most devoted initiates knew. Seven levels below the common ritual chambers, a vast circular hall opened like a wound in the ancient bedrock. Here, bathed in the amber light of thirteen eternal flames, High Priest Valen addressed the assembled cell leaders—thirty-nine men and women whose faces bore the ritual scars of their absolute devotion.
"Three thousand years of preparation culminates tomorrow night," Valen declared, his voice carrying effortlessly through the cavernous space. The Mark of Icarus pulsed on his forehead as he gestured toward the massive tactical display dominating the center of the hall—a perfect scale model of the Rikxia Empire, crafted from obsidian and bone.
