The air around the rebel camp was tense, thick with the weight of the decisions that had been made in the past few days. The rebels were gathered in a large circle, the crackling fire in the center throwing their shadows long across the uneven ground. Callum stood at the front, his gaze steely as ever, but there was something softer now in his eyes—something deeper—ever since the loss of Lauren.
Still, he carried on, as he always had. There was no room for grief in war.
“We cannot keep fighting like this,” he said, his voice low but commanding, every word heavy. “We’ve taken back villages, struck down Harold’s forces, but we cannot keep going without more hands. We’re stretched too thin, and if we don’t find new allies, we’ll fall. Every day we wait, Harold grows stronger.”
Eric, standi
