Morwen, the matriarch of the Styra clan, stood upright at the end of the long stone table. The vast underground hall was illuminated by torches, casting dancing shadows on the faces of the clan's advisors. Her jeweled fingers tapped lightly on the smooth surface, a calculated gesture to maintain the room's attention. To her right, Drevan, the leader of the Xarus clan, a robust man with a piercing gaze, sat with his arms crossed over his chest.
"We stand at a crossroads," Morwen declared, her voice resonating in the confined space. "War looms on the horizon, and our ties with the fortress are tightening. But how long before they seek to dominate us?" Her question hung in the air, each advisor weighing the implications of her words.
