The days following the council's meeting were a blur of planning and implementation. Elara, Morgana, and their allies moved through the city, overseeing the rebuilding efforts and ensuring that every step was taken with care. The heart beneath Eldorim was alive with power, its pulse reverberating through the streets, guiding their every move. But as the city began to heal, so too did the challenges of leadership become more apparent.
Elara stood in the heart of the city one evening, the winds sweeping across the open square as workers labored to restore the damaged buildings. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the bustling city. For a brief moment, she felt a sense of peace—an acknowledgment that they were on the right path.
But that peace was fleeting.
A sharp presence behind her made her turn, her hand instinctively reaching for the relic at her side. Morgana stood there, her expression unreadable.
