The Order's Hunt

The scent of scorched earth still lingered in the air as Inquisitor Veylan stepped through the remnants of the ruined leyline disruptor site. The surviving engineers and operatives had already begun their search, combing through every scrap of wreckage and every fragment of arcane residue left behind by the explosion. Technomantic scanners pulsed softly in the hands of the investigators, their runes flickering with responses that led only to fractured trails of leyline interference. Nothing concrete. Nothing useful.

Veylan's eyes burned with cold fury as he surveyed the remains of the battlefield. The operative's betrayal had not been an impulsive act—it had been engineered, planted within them like a disease waiting to manifest. That meant someone, somewhere, had orchestrated this downfall long before the first rune was inscribed, before the first disruptor had been positioned.

The question was: who?