The news came the next morning, scouts had spotted the first wave of the Shadow King's army moving through the western forests, heading straight for Elanor. The council convened immediately, their faces grim as they discussed strategies and battle plans. Aelric stood off to the side, watching as they debated, feeling the weight of his responsibility grow heavier with each passing moment.
"They're coming sooner than we expected," Lyra muttered as she joined Aelric. "We don't have much time."
"What do we do?" Aelric asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lyra's face was set in determination. "We fight. We defend Elanor with everything we have. And you," she paused, her silver eyes piercing into his, "you must lead."
Aelric's stomach twisted. "Lead? I'm not ready for that."
"You're the Lost Heir, Aelric," Lyra said firmly. "The people need to see their leader. If you do not stand with them, their hope will shatter."
He nodded, though the fear gnawed at him. He didn't feel like a leader, but he couldn't let them down, not now. The fate of Eldoria was at stake.
That afternoon, preparations for the defense of Elanor began. Soldiers and mages gathered in the city square, organizing supplies and setting up defenses along the crumbling walls. Aelric watched as they worked, feeling both awe and dread at the sight. These people were willing to lay down their lives for Eldoria, how could he not do the same?
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city in a deep orange glow, Aelric stood atop the wall with Lyra and Aldric. In the distance, dark clouds began to gather, and with them came the faint sound of drums, the drums of war.
"They're coming," Aldric murmured, his eyes narrowing. "The first battle for Eldoria begins tonight."