Rain hammered against the stained-glass windows of Castle Valdren.
A relentless, violent drumming that seemed to echo the chaos within the kingdom.
The storm had arrived shortly before sunset, drenching the courtyards and turning the roads beyond the castle walls into rivers of mud.
It was a night where the world outside felt like it was drowning, but inside the castle, the air was thick with a different kind of suffocation.
Inside the war chamber, the storm outside was nothing compared to the one brewing within.
King Lodrick sat at the head of the long oak table.
His presence filled the room, not with warmth, but with a cold, terrifying vacuum.
Maps covered the surface, pinned with ruthless precision.
Pins marked villages.
Roads.
Forests.
Trade routes.
Search parties.
The hun
