[Five Days Later]

Following the war notice, the city was entirely on lockdown. The bustling bazaar, now merely a husk of itself. Empty stalls and a clutter of cargo littered across the Hangar. Somehow even the Droids had disappeared.

Not a single guardian was in sight. Astonishingly, Banshee had also closed up shop.

It was far too sudden, the tower seemed abandoned, all signs of life were lost. As if someone had deliberately pulled the plug.

Ikorra peered through a pearl sized window, her gaze lingered at the Courtyard. She had been with the city through thick and thin. She knew full well how the humble community of survivors had claimed their spot as humanity's last bastion.

Through blood sweat and tears, Ikorra had worked her way towards the top of the food chain. But despite spending centuries building this sanctuary on earth, she'd never seen the tower so desolate.

Humans were fickle, the moment they sensed danger, they'd flee. Of course, the one's in the Tower could only flee to the lower city, immersed in their own delusions, that perhaps they were somehow safer under their own arbitrary roofs.

Yet it wasn't their capricious delusions that bothered her. Rather it was the feeble structure of power within the city. After all, just like their citizens, the Consensus was also susceptible to delusions.

Perhaps peace had made them complacent. Or rather it was their extravagant trade that busied them in internal strife for profits. There were many reasons, but one thing was certain. the City had forgotten its place in the world.

Many thoughts ran astray in her mind, merging into a convoluted mess. It didn't help that for the last few days, Ikorra was holed up in her room. Planning the assault had taken a toll on her. Her mind grew weary.

Perhaps that's why she felt strange. Stress, concern and a throbbing headache had robbed her of any remaining solace. The warlock felt uneasy, stepping away from the window, she heaved in a deep breath.

'I need to clear my head'

Ikorra chose to pace around in her office. Though the room was largely cluttered with bookshelves, she had long since found a pleasant loop to walk around.

The wooden floor boards croaked and creaked with each step she took, though she could have fixed it with a flick of a finger, Ikorra chose not to.

Although unpleasant at first, she found the odd noises to be nostalgic. Rather reminiscent of her time as an apprentice when she'd spend weeks in the old library scouring grimoires and tomes.

Time flowed, seconds tumbled into minutes, which slipped into hours. A serene aura enveloped her presence.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Suddenly, a knock resounded, shattering her concentration, the light flushed away as her aura collapsed, brittle like glass. She turned towards the door and it shook slightly.

"Enter."

Eris Morn gently pushed the door open, her eyes met Ikorra's, "He's here."

"Bring him in." Ikorra glanced towards Eris, or rather to the figure lingering just behind her.

The huntress nodded as she ushered the man in. An awoken warlock wearing a grumpy frown, pale blue skin and ashen white hair. He wore an exquisite robe, with a certain artifact fastened to his right arm, a band with an azure diamond inscribed on top, representing the Gensym Scribes.

Ikorra held an expectant gaze, "You're a difficult man to find, Asher Mir."

Asher's face stiffened with slight annoyance, he sluggishly walked inside and stood across Ikorra with a slightly hunched back, "Hmph! Apparently not difficult enough."

Ikorra brushed aside his crude antics, Asher Mir was an eccentric warlock. Everyone was well aware of his odd tendencies.

"The Vanguard is in need of your expertise, as busy as you are, news of the consensus should've still reached your ears." Ikorra inquired.

A sudden twitch ran through his veins, Asher seemed to rile up at the mention of the "Consensus", he couldn't help but ramble off, muttering under his breath.

"Daft basta...They think they ca..... Unaccep....this is unacceptable." Huffing and puffing, the pale warlock was rattled for words.

Ikorra cleared her throat, her gaze weighing down on Asher. The sudden interruption brought him back from his frantic mumblings.

"Ahm, yes. Recent escapades to the moon? Or so I've heard. I don't suppose the Vanguard dragged me away from important research for just sophistries. The Hive are an enigma, even to me."

Asher subtly raised a brow, questioning the Vanguard's summons.

"Forgive me Ikorra, but if you're looking for some insight, its best you refer to someone more versed in this...science. I think you know who I am referring to." His voice meek, akin to a whisper.

Ikorra sighed, her eyes traced the open door, following her glance, Eris softly locked it on her way out.

"Toland the Mad. Some in the Consensus have pushed for him to be brought back. His ways are considered odd, but at this time his knowledge holds immeasurable value."

Ikorra fell silent in contemplation as Asher looked on, unable to bear with curiosity.

"So? Must I be dragged into this mess as well? Let the Consensus be with their whims."

"You and I both know he's not to be trusted easily. The Consensus signed off on him, not the Vanguard. Their desperation for revenge has blinded their judgement."

Asher fell silent, although there was much to be said about the Vanguard, he couldn't disagree with Ikorra.

'Toland the Mad', at one point he was a warlock that Asher respected greatly. A pioneer within Hive research. However Toland had somehow gotten caught up within his own work. His research had turned into an obsession.

That's where it had all gone wrong, resulting in his eventual exile from the city. He knew why Ikorra was reluctant to put her trust in him.

Rather he knew all along. Ikorra was a shrewd leader, one that would never put her eggs in one basket. Asher was well aware of Toland's return. However, receiving his own summons was puzzling to him.

What could he contribute to a war with the Hive? He who had spent most of his life researching the science of the Vex minds?

Yet picking apart Ikorra's words, the pieces all fell into place. A subtle realization bloomed in his mind.

"You want me to keep tabs on him? Quite bold of you to ask."

"You're quick on the uptake. But you don't need to do that. The Hidden are already responsible for it. Instead, tag along with him. Keep an eye out for...odd things." Ikorra stressed the last phrase.

Asher scoffed, ridicule evident in his tone, his eyes narrowed, "A preposterous suggestion for me to play lackey."

"Fine, I'll humour you. But you forget Ikorra, he's mad not foolish. You think your little shadows can sneak under his nose? He's well acquainted with the dark."

Without waiting for a response, Asher sauntered away, leaving Ikorra to ponder on her own.

***