Chapter Thirty-Four
Dawn had barely begun when the scouts returned. Their faces were pale, eyes wide. They did not run or falter, but their unease was obvious.
“The western ridge,” one reported, trembling slightly. “Ironholt forces are moving faster than projected. They’ll reach the corridor by midday.”
Lyra’s stomach tightened. “They’ll be here sooner than we thought.”
Cain stepped forward immediately, tension coiling in his shoulders. “We adjust. We move soldiers forward. We reinforce.”
Elias did not look up from his maps. He traced the paths, finger hovering over the calculated lines. “No. The corridor must remain as planned.”
Cain snapped. “What? That’s madness. We’ll be overrun if—”
“Mathematics dictates otherwise,” Elias said quietly, voice calm but final. “Our positioning cre
