The war council convened before dawn.
I hadn't slept. None of us had. The reports from Aldric's scouts had arrived in the middle of the night, and the moment I read them, I knew sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford.
Now, sitting at the head of the long oak table in the war room, I stared at the map spread before us. Red markers clustered along the northeastern frontier—thirty thousand soldiers, three full legions, cavalry units, siege equipment. The Eastern Kingdoms weren't posturing anymore. They were preparing to invade.
Darius sat to my right, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming against the table in that way he did when he was calculating odds. Ethan stood at the far end, arms crossed, his scarred face grim. Aldric was positioned near the map, a wooden pointer in hand. And beside me, still in chains but now a permanent fixture at these meetings, sat Aeric.
"Speak plainly, Aldric," I said, my voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on every syllable. "How bad is it?"
