The command tent, now enlarged and reinforced by the geomancers of the Sixth Squad, was the focal point of all tensions. The air was thick, saturated with the smell of candle wax, damp leather, and the subtle ozone left by essence manipulations. In the center, a massive rough-hewn wooden table supported the detailed map of the border region, a worn parchment on which the latest enemy movements were traced.

The Count stood at the head of the table, his hands clasped behind his back. His mere calm and observant presence dominated the space, forcing even the hot-headed Valerius to a grumbling restraint. At his side, Lady Anya, her gaze sharp, waited, a stylus in her hand. The other team leaders, captains of Martissan companies and section chiefs of the Awakened, formed a tight circle. Among them, Maggie, flanked by Tonar and Zirel, stood straight, her face closed off. Rhelas was slightly apart, leaning against a tent pole, his silence itself a statement.

"The situation is crystal clear," began the Count, his peaceful voice cutting short the murmurs. "Pilaf holds the north, we hold the south. We are watching each other like two dogs around a bone, each having marked its territory. But neither has dared to bite into the heart." His long, slender finger landed on the center of the map, on a relatively blank area surrounded by symbols of mountains and dense forests. "The Center. The Umbral Gorges."

All eyes locked onto this unmastered zone.

"Our respective scouts have only skimmed its edges," the Count continued. "Pilaf has posted lookouts there, we have sent patrols. But no one has committed a significant force there. Why? Because it's a natural trap. A narrow defile, impassable cliffs, a forest so dense it swallows light. To commit an army there is to risk seeing it devoured by the terrain before even meeting the enemy."

He raised his eyes, his hazel gaze sweeping the assembly. "That is also why whoever holds the Umbral Gorges will hold the key to this war. It's not just a question of strategic position. It's a question of symbol. Showing that we can tame the untamable."

He signaled to Maggie. "Captain. Your report."

Maggie stepped forward, unrolling a smaller transparency which she overlaid on the main map. It showed a complex network of lines and underground cavities.

"As you ordered, my Lord, we have mapped the natural tunnels and caves that extend beneath our positions and into the foothills of the Gorges." Her voice was clear, professional. She pointed to several entrances marked with blue crosses. "These galleries are stable and passable. They could allow for the discreet movement of small units to the rear of Pilaf's advanced positions, here and here."

The Count nodded, satisfied. "Excellent work, Captain. That gives us options."

Tonar, clearing his throat, added, his tone a bit gravelly: "We followed your orders, my Lord. We did not push the exploration of the lateral fissures, the ones that seemed newer and... unstable." He pointed a finger at several dotted lines that plunged towards the very heart of the Gorges. "Some emit erratic essence flows. Others are too narrow. It smelled like a trap."

Rhelas's gaze, from his corner, intensified. He suddenly leaned forward. "These erratic essence flows... did you have them measured?"

Maggie shot him a sidelong glance. "We don't have the necessary instruments, Commander. And that wasn't the mission."

"A missed opportunity," murmured Rhelas, more to himself than to the others. For him, every anomaly was information.

The Count ignored the exchange. "Good. So we know where we *can* pass, and we suspect where we *must not* pass. Now, the question is how we are going to seize this center."

It was Valerius's turn to explode. "The strategy is simple! We send the 'Hammer'! We punch through their lines in the north, we force them back, and we advance towards the Gorges via the north-west face, the most open terrain! Force and speed!"

Lady Anya made a sound of polite derision. "And you would expose our right flank to a lightning counter-attack from the Twisted-Spine forest. Their light cavalry would make mincemeat of us there. No. The solution is to lure them *into* the Gorges. We feign a retreat, we let them commit, and we block them at the southern entrance. They'll be caught in a pincer movement."

"A rat's plan," grumbled Valerius. "Waiting for the enemy to willingly throw itself into our jaws."

"It's a jaw that could snap shut, General," Anya retorted coldly.

It was then that Rhelas detached himself from his post. He approached the table, his fluid movement capturing everyone's attention.

"You are both talking about moving bodies," he said, his voice a trickle of ice water. "Regiments, battalions. It's noisy, slow, and predictable. Pilaf will anticipate any large-scale maneuver."

He planted his own thin, pale finger right in the center of the Gorges, on the map. "The battle for the center will not be won with soldiers. Not initially. It will be won with an idea. A belief."

He raised his eyes, his gaze meeting the Count's. "We must make Pilaf believe that the Umbral Gorges are *already* ours. And more than that, that they have become a place of absolute terror."

A skeptical silence greeted his words.

"Explain yourself, Commander," ordered the Count, a glint of interest in his eyes.

"We will use the tunnels, but not to hide soldiers in them," said Rhelas. "We will hide dreams in them. Nightmares. My Awakened will project phenomena from these caves that will seem to emanate from the very heart of the Gorges. Whispers that will freeze the blood in their veins. Visions of ancestral beasts prowling among the trees. The tangible impression of an overwhelming, malevolent presence. We will ensure that every Pilaf soldier who dares to approach feels a visceral fear, the fear of having crossed a line and walking on sacred, cursed ground."

Tonar sneered. "Phantoms! You want to scare them off with nursery tales?"

"I want to paralyze them with the fear of the unknown, Sergeant," corrected Rhelas without raising his voice. "Meanwhile, Lady Anya can move her troops to lock down the access points, and General Valerius can prepare his 'Hammer' to strike not a dug-in enemy, but an enemy in rout, fleeing a land they believe to be haunted."

The plan was audacious. Mad. Typical of Rhelas.

Maggie felt a knot form in her stomach. This plan relied entirely on the Awakened. And it involved playing with fears that reminded her too much of the very real one emanating from the forest and the black structure.

"There is a risk," she said finally, drawing all eyes. "Manipulating essence in this way, on such a scale, in an already unstable place... we don't know what resonances it could provoke. We have seen what ancient, uncontrolled energies can do." She did not mention Elisa, but her implication was clear to the Count and Rhelas.

"War is a risk, Captain," the Count replied after a moment's reflection. His gaze had hardened. "The risk of inaction is defeat. Commander Rhelas's plan is the only one that offers us a chance to take the center without committing the bulk of our forces and risking a bloodbath. We will attempt it."

His verdict had fallen. The strategy was set.

"Rhelas, you have carte blanche for your operations in the tunnels and the Gorges. Anya, you will coordinate the troop deployment in support. Valerius, keep your men ready. Maggie, your men will secure the tunnel entry points and serve as the immediate reserve."

Orders flew, precise and implacable. The meeting dispersed, the leaders leaving the tent one after another, their faces grave. Maggie remained for a moment, her eyes fixed on the map, on that empty center which was about to become the theater of a battle as invisible as it was decisive.

As she exited, she caught Zirel's gaze. The scout had said nothing, but his expression was eloquent. He had understood, too. They were not going to confront Pilaf on a battlefield, but in the minds of its soldiers. And for that, they had to awaken fears they might not be able to control.

In the gloom of the tent, the Count remained alone, contemplating the central point. A cold calculation in his hazel eyes. He had just rolled the dice. If Rhelas's plan worked, the war could be over in a matter of weeks.

If it failed, or if it triggered something unforeseen... he had Maggie and her soldiers to contain the damage. And he had Elisa, his vector, his weapon of last resort, whose power remained, for now, carefully sheathed.

The center of the map suddenly seemed darker, as if the shadows cast by the candles were carving out an abyss there.

The silence in the command tent stretched long after the others had departed. The Count remained motionless, his hazel eyes fixed on that troubling blank space at the center of the map—the Umbral Gorges. It was more than a strategic objective; it was a void, and nature, like power, abhors a vacuum.

He knew Rhelas's plan was a gamble, playing with forces they scarcely understood.

But the greater gamble would be to do nothing, to let Pilaf be the first to dare that darkness.

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