Elowen motioned for him to take a seat beside her, her movements fluid, yet there was something in her eyes that spoke of fatigue—a weariness that couldn't be masked by her regal composure. As Mikhailis settled into the chair, his eyes flicked across the room, noting the stark contrast of the room's once-comforting atmosphere now filled with strain. There was no mistaking it—the weight of the situation was in every inch of the room, hanging like smoke in the air, stifling and thick.
The others gathered around the table, not with the casual ease of comrades, but with a sense of restrained urgency, as if they knew that the moment they stopped paying attention to the details, the war would swallow them whole. It wasn't just the camp that was on edge. It was the people, the ones who carried the strategies, the ones who bore the weight of the kingdom's fate.
