The air in the war room grew heavier, each passing second thickening the tension around the council table. The flickering light from the enchanted lamps cast long, twisted shadows against the walls, highlighting the worn faces of those seated at the table, their eyes sharp, their minds calculating. The hum of manac crystals vibrated through the stone like a barely contained storm, and it felt as though the room itself was holding its breath.
King Varion of Arathos's piercing blue gaze flicked between the members of the council. His face remained an impassive mask, but the tension around his eyes revealed his impatience. He had expected this debate, but the level of urgency gnawed at him. Helmis's impatience was a flaw, and Varion couldn't afford to ignore it. He was a man of patience, and he knew that the war could not be won through rash actions alone.
