sun rose pale and muted, as if even the heavens mourned the lives lost at Oakridge. But Zaria did not mourn in silence, she sharpened her resolve. The time for hiding and waiting was over.
By dawn, she had summoned her circle to the war room. Her eyes swept over them, Clara’s restless hands, Liora’s determined stare, Enric’s quiet readiness, Marcus pale but stubborn in his chair, and Damian, silent, watching her with unreadable intent.
Zaria’s voice was firm. “Drevon thinks fear is his weapon. He burns homes, slaughters innocents, and leaves survivors to spread despair. But he forgets that fear can be a double-edged blade. Today, we make it cut him instead.”
Clara frowned. “How?”
Zaria spread a map across the table, pointing to a warehouse near the city’s edge. “Drevon has spies in Pol
