The flickering torchlight in the hall danced like a thousand restless spirits, casting shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with anticipation, each breath held in a suspended moment of history, as if time itself had frozen in place.
At the far end of the hall, where the altar rose high and proud beneath the ancient banners, the High Elder stood tall, his hands clasped around an ornate ceremonial dagger. His eyes, as ancient as the stones beneath their feet, gleamed with quiet authority. The scrolls—those sacred texts that had passed down through generations—rested in front of him, their edges frayed with age.
Una stood at the foot of the altar, her pulse thrumming in her veins. She could feel the weight of her destiny pressing on her chest, the eyes of every leader in the ro
