The night hung heavy over Vaelenor, a blanket of darkness that seemed to pulse with the weight of secrets. Amara stood at the edge of the city's high walls, staring out at the distant horizon. The stars were hidden behind thick clouds, and the air felt charged with something old, something dangerous. She could sense it—just beyond the reach of her mind, like a whisper she couldn't quite hear.
"We'll have to move quietly," Morgana's voice broke through the stillness, low and steady as always. "The council might not like us acting without their approval."
Amara nodded, her thoughts lingering on the conversations they had left behind. The council would deliberate for hours, perhaps even days, on how to proceed. She couldn't wait for them. They needed answers now, and the shadows held the key.
