The camp lay in an uneasy quiet, the embers of their fires flickering in the stillness. Raelis's men, tired and broken from their earlier defeat, huddled in their tents or sat by the dying flames, their spirits as low as the smoldering coals. But something felt wrong to Seraphina. She couldn't shake the tension that clung to the air like an unseen fog, thick and suffocating.
She stood at the edge of the camp, her eyes scanning the dark horizon, where the walls of Eldoria loomed in the distance. The memory of the lightning-wielding warrior still haunted her thoughts, and despite her father's orders to regroup and strategize, Seraphina couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It was too quiet. Too perfect.
"Father," she called softly as she stepped into the command tent. Raelis was sitting by the map, brooding over their next move. "I don't like this. We should have scouts out, patrolling the perimeter. It's too—"
