Ferdinand's grip tightened on Morgana's shoulder, a shared determination passing between them. "We move out tonight," he said, his voice resolute. "Gather the men, make sure they're prepared. If your intel is correct, this could be our best and only shot."
Morgana nodded, her jaw clenched in silent agreement as she turned to leave. A burning desire for vengeance fueled her every step, but beneath it all was the quiet, gnawing pain of loss. She could feel Reynauld's absence more keenly than ever as they prepared to march into the heart of danger.
As Morgana disappeared through the door, Ferdinand stood alone for a moment longer, staring at the map of the northern ridge. His thoughts shifted from the dragons to his son, Arnold, who had been experiencing strange convulsions ever since the attack. Something was off, and deep down, Ferdinand feared that Arnold might be caught up in something much bigger than anyone realized.
