It was a crisp night in the middle of the forest. The squad consisting of Oliver, Charlotte, and a few others had been on the run for what felt like an eternity, desperate to escape the clutches of their pursuers. They had been traveling non-stop for eight hours before finally deciding to set up camp. Worried about being discovered, they activated a magical barrier called the "Echo of Silence." This barrier served to block out all noise and visibility from the outside world, providing them with some much-needed security and privacy.
As the night settled in, exhaustion weighed heavily on their shoulders. Oliver, being the selfless one, volunteered to take the first watch. He sat by the crackling fire, gazing at the swaying trees illuminated by the gentle moonlight. The peaceful ambiance offered a brief reprieve from the chaos that surrounded them.
Suddenly, a snap of a branch jolted Oliver from his reverie, putting him on high alert. He turned towards the source of the sound and was surprised to see the priestess approaching with a wine glass and two cups in hand. She waved at him, a small smile playing on her lips.
Without hesitation, Oliver made room for her on the log he was sitting on, accepting the glass of wine she offered. As they settled into a comfortable silence, Oliver couldn't help but comment on the beauty of their surroundings.
"You truly live in a beautiful place," he remarked, taking a sip of the wine.
The priestess's response caught him off guard. "I used to hate this place," she confessed, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.
Oliver raised an eyebrow, curious to hear her story.
"It was like a golden prison to me," she continued, swirling the wine in her glass. "I once dreamt of exploring the world, uncovering hidden treasures and lost histories. But everything changed when I was just a child."
Her laughter was bittersweet, tugging at Oliver's heartstrings.
"Did you not want to become a priestess?" Oliver inquired, sensing the weight of unspoken burdens in her words.
While some might view her visions of the future as a gift, she saw them through a different lens. Taking another sip of wine, she reflected on her path that led her to where she was now.
"You become numb to it all," she mused, her gaze drifting to the moonlit sky. "Like a golden goose trapped in a cage, only valued for the golden eggs it lays."
Her words painted a poignant picture of her inner struggles, resonating with Oliver on a deeper level. He reached out to touch her hand, their eyes locking in a silent exchange of understanding.
For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as they shared a rare connection amidst the chaos of their reality. Oliver withdrew his hand, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It must be difficult to witness the suffering and loss that your visions reveal," he empathized, his heart heavy with compassion for her plight.
The priestess's gaze softened, a mixture of resignation and acceptance in her eyes.
"Fate can be cruel," she murmured, her words heavy with the weight of her experiences. The wine had started to take its effect, loosening the barriers that she had carefully erected around her emotions.
Oliver watched as she danced around the flickering campfire, her silhouette bathed in the warm glow of the flames. Despite the hardships she had endured, there was a sense of grace and resilience that shone through her every movement.
..
Wendel Graf, a trusted member of Saethan Sunsworn's team, strides confidently into the Golden Viper, making his way to the squad leader's office with a sense of purpose. As he steps into the dimly lit room, the only source of illumination coming from flickering candlelight and Saethan Sunsworn's piercing purple eyes, he senses the gravity of the situation hanging heavy in the air.
Saethan Sunsworn, deep in thought, reflects on the escalating tensions between the nobles and commoners, fearing the onset of a second Purity War. The enigmatic squad leader struggles to comprehend what has led to such a rapid deterioration of relations, sensing unseen forces at play in the shadows.
With a heavy sigh, Saethan turns to his cabinet, reaching for a bottle of whisky to dull the edge of the stress gnawing at his shoulders. The amber liquid provides a momentary respite as he braces himself for the inevitable challenges that lie ahead.
As the door clicks open, Wendel steps inside, placing documents on Saethan's desk with a sense of urgency. Saethan's gaze lingers on Wendel's face, a silent question hanging in the air. "I hope it's good news," he muses, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
Wendel offers a bright smile, only to have it falter as he delivers the grim tidings. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," he starts, the weight of the news evident in his tone. "There has been a bombing at Flora Equipment."
Flora Equipment, a prominent manufacturer of magic weapons owned by the influential Black family, has long been a beacon of support for equal rights among the populace, bridging the divide between nobles and commoners. The attack strikes at the heart of unity and progress, threatening to unravel the delicate balance of power in the kingdom.
Saethan's hand tightens around his glass, the liquid within mirroring the turmoil in his mind. "Forty lives lost, and countless more injured," Wendel continues, his voice somber with the weight of the tragedy.
"This is a problem," Saethan mutters, his resolve steeling as he summons his magic to reveal a hidden passage behind a seemingly ordinary bookshelf. With a silent nod, Wendel follows Saethan into the secret chamber, where a map of the kingdom unfurls before them, detailing the lands of Ashrone in intricate detail.
"Deploy the Black Masks to these locations," Saethan commands, his finger tracing a path on the map. The Black Masks, an elite combat group trained and sworn to his service, stand ready to enforce his will with ruthless efficiency.
"We cannot afford to let this conflict escalate further," Saethan continues, his gaze unwavering. "It threatens to upend all we have worked for, and I will not allow it to derail our plans."
"Consider it done," Wendel responds.