The darkness of the valley was thick, almost tangible, swallowing the moonlight and turning even the familiar terrain into a maze of shadows. Ren moved silently at the head of his strike force, Ironhold’s best soldiers following his lead. Their eyes glinted with determination, weapons ready, every step measured.
Tonight, they would hit the enemy before the enemy could hit them. Varik’s remaining generals were gathering their forces—over five thousand men spread across multiple camps. A direct confrontation would be suicide. But Ren’s plan was not to meet them head-on. He intended to cripple their supply lines, sow confusion, and strike fear into their hearts.
Mira led the scouts, her form nearly invisible in the darkness. “The northern encampment is lightly guarded,” she whispered, point
