The weight of the decision presses on me as I stand beside Elias and Rowan, my heart torn in a thousand directions. The walls of the war room feel like they're closing in. The scent of freshly brewed tea fills the air, masking the tension that’s so thick I can barely breathe. Elias paces in front of the table, his hands clasped behind his back, while Rowan leans against the stone wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the map laid out before us. The map, once a symbol of victory, now represents a battlefield teeming with threats.
"This alliance Magnus has formed with the Iron Fang Pack," Rowan says, his voice grim, "it’s a serious threat. If they join forces, they could easily overpower us. We need to move first."
I glance at Elias, the cold commander who seems unbothered by Rowan's words
