The sound of Eamon's sword scraping against the stone floor echoed through the silent courtyard, a sharp contrast to the oppressive stillness that surrounded them. Elena's breath caught in her chest, her heart pounding as her gaze met Eamon's. She could see it in his eyes—doubt, uncertainty, but also the rigid conviction of someone who believed they were doing the right thing, even if it meant fighting against everything they had once held dear.
“Eamon, don't do this," Elena said, her voice trembling, not with fear but with a deep, aching sorrow. “You don't have to fight for the priests. You don't have to fight for a system that's broken. You can still join us. We can change this—together."
Eamon's grip on his sword tightened, his eyes flickering with something—anger, resolve, perhaps ev
