"Yes, Elara," Aren called back, his voice surprisingly clear, devoid of all emotion. "I'm coming. I just needed a moment to... reflect."
He stood, his body stiff, heart heavy. The fresh scroll lay open on his desk, its blank parchment waiting. His hand, still faintly marked by the Heaven-Eater, hovered over it. He closed his eyes one last time, steeling himself against the horrifying task. He had to draw the lines. He had to create the formations that would doom millions. The voice from the future had given him a task. A horrifying, impossible task.
I have to do it, he thought, because if I don't, the war is already lost.
He picked up his pen, his fingers tightening around the cold metal. His eyes snapped open, blazing with a cold, desperate resolve. He began to draw. Hour after hour, i
