The runner collapsed in Outpost Dra'kul's command center, gasping for air that tasted of dirt and exhaustion.
Commander Skel'var caught him before he hit the stone floor. "Speak."
"Radiant forces," the scout wheezed. "Pulling back. All of them. The entire eastern front is collapsing inward."
Skel'var's eyes narrowed. "Collapsing? You mean retreating?"
"Full withdrawal, Commander. Supply trains moving west. Artillery being dismantled. Infantry formations marching double-time away from our positions." The scout's voice carried disbelief. "They're not even maintaining defensive postures. They're just... leaving."
Silence fell across the command center. The officers present exchanged glances that mixed confusion with something else.
Hope.
Dangerous, fragile hope.
"Send word to the other outposts," Skel'var ordered. "Confirm if they're seeing the same thing. And double our scout patrols. This could be a feint."
But even as he gave the orders, he knew it wasn't.
