Chapter 62
The Elf King, Eldrin, led his army through the dense, ancient forest, the hooves of their elven steeds barely disturbing the soft, moss-covered earth. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood that lingered in Eldrin's memory. They halted at a secluded clearing, a tranquil haven nestled beside a calm, flowing river, ideal for a night's encampment. A large fire was lit, casting dancing shadows that flickered across the faces of Eldrin's generals. They gathered around a makeshift table, maps spread before them, discussing strategies for their imminent assault on the mountain stronghold. Eldrin, his eyes gleaming with a cold determination, outlined his plans, detailing the weaknesses in the mountain's defenses, the optimal points
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