Leon's Burden
The camp stirred before sunrise, soldiers moving with practiced efficiency as they prepared for the next leg of their march. Leon stood by the main war table, his fingers tracing the lines of the map spread before him. Every decision felt like a knife's edge, every delay a step closer to disaster.
Nathan approached quietly, his presence a steadying force. "The troops are ready, but there's murmuring. They're tired, Leon."
Leon didn't look up. "They don't have the luxury of rest. Neither do we."
Nathan frowned. "You've barely slept since the battle. If you collapse, this alliance collapses with you."
Leon finally met his brother's gaze, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but burning with determination. "I can't afford to stop. Not now."
Nathan hesitated, then placed a hand on Leon's shoulder. "At least delegate. Let the princess and the prince take some of the load."
Leon's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "The princess would love that—she's already waiting for me to fail."
"Then don't fail," Nathan said simply. "And don't forget you're not alone in this."
---
Atlas in the Shadows
Far from the camp, Atlas moved silently through the dense forest bordering Fleur territory. His cloak blended with the shadows, and the shard of obsidian pulsed faintly in his grip, guiding him like a compass.
The faint glow of a Fleur encampment appeared through the trees. Atlas crouched, his sharp eyes scanning the layout. Soldiers milled about, their movements precise and organized—too precise. His jaw tightened as he noticed the crimson banners of Lysander's elite forces.
He whispered to himself, "You're making your move already, Lysander."
Atlas's fingers brushed the hilt of his blade. He could take out their commanders now, weaken their forces before the allies arrived. But he hesitated, his thoughts drifting back to Leon. If he acted without coordination, it could endanger them all.
"Focus," he muttered, forcing himself to steady his breathing. He melted back into the shadows, intent on gathering more information.
---
Leon Rallies the Troops
Back at the camp, the allied leaders gathered for a briefing. The Arabic princess stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes fixed on Leon.
"Our scouts report movement near the Eastern pass," she said. "If Fleur's forces reach that point, they'll have the high ground. Do you have a plan, Mondell?"
Leon nodded, pointing to the map. "We'll split into three groups. The Eastern forces will hold the pass, using their spirit animals to fortify the position. The Arabic warriors will cut off their supply lines here."
"And you?" the princess asked, her tone skeptical.
"My forces will draw their attention, pulling them away from the pass."
The princess raised an eyebrow. "Risky."
"Necessary," Leon countered. "If we let Fleur control the pass, we lose the Eastern front. This is our best chance to stop them."
The Eastern prince nodded in agreement. "The strategy is sound. We'll move at first light."
The princess hesitated but finally inclined her head. "Fine. But don't expect us to save you if you get in over your head."
---
Atlas Uncovers the Truth
Atlas slipped into the Fleur encampment under the cover of darkness. His movements were precise, each step calculated to avoid detection. The shard pulsed stronger now, its glow faint but insistent.
Inside the command tent, he found what he was looking for: a detailed map of the battlefield with markers indicating Fleur's next targets. His eyes scanned the parchment, his stomach twisting as he recognized the pattern.
"They're funneling the alliance into a trap," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
The relic's influence radiated from a pedestal in the center of the tent, its glow casting eerie shadows. Atlas approached cautiously, his breath catching as he felt its power. It was stronger than he'd imagined, its energy crackling in the air like static.
"You're playing with fire, Lysander," he muttered. His hand tightened around the shard. He needed to get this information to Leon—but how could he, when he was still in the shadows of his own guilt?
---
Paths Converge
As dawn broke, the allied armies began their march toward the Eastern pass. Leon rode at the front, his expression resolute despite the gnawing doubt in his chest. Beside him, Bjorn and Nathan exchanged quiet words, their presence a silent reassurance.
Meanwhile, Atlas moved swiftly through the forest, the stolen map clutched tightly in his hand. He kept his senses sharp, his every instinct screaming at him to stay hidden. But his thoughts drifted again to Leon, the memory of his face driving him forward.
Their paths were set, their fates intertwined. The storm was coming, and both men knew it would change everything.