The dead of night draped the land in a heavy cloak of darkness, the only sounds the distant howling of beasts and the subtle, rhythmic shifting of the earth beneath the underground chamber.
The air was thick with tension and the weight of secrecy as Lysandra, cloaked in deep shadow, stood before a gathered council of vassal kings, chieftains, and leaders, each of them draped in their dark battle armor, their eyes cold and full of resolve.
They had gathered here for one purpose: to strike down Drakar and claim their victory, no matter the cost.
