Atlas Approaches the Camp
The forest grew thinner as Atlas neared the allied camp, the distant sounds of soldiers preparing for the next march drifting through the trees. His steps slowed as uncertainty crept into his mind. How would they react? How would he react?
The shard of obsidian in his hand pulsed faintly, a reminder of the relic's looming threat. He tightened his grip on it, his resolve hardening. This wasn't about acceptance or forgiveness—this was about doing what needed to be done.
As he emerged from the shadows of the trees, the first sentries spotted him. Their eyes widened in recognition before one of them shouted, "It's him! Duke Atlas!"
The camp erupted into motion, soldiers grabbing their weapons and forming a defensive line. Atlas raised his hands slowly, signaling that he wasn't there to fight.
"I come with information about the relic and Fleur's next move," he said, his voice calm but firm.
Bjorn was the first to approach, his expression dark and brimming with distrust. "You've got some nerve showing your face here."
Atlas held his ground. "I didn't come here for approval. I came to stop Lysander."
Bjorn's hand hovered near his sword, but before he could respond, Leon appeared at the edge of the gathering crowd. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his posture spoke volumes.
"Let him through," Leon said quietly.
---
Tense Reunions
Atlas was escorted to the command tent, where the allied leaders were already assembled. The Arabic princess sat with her arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on Atlas. The Eastern prince observed him with quiet curiosity, while Nathan and Bjorn stood protectively near Leon.
"You have some gall returning here after everything," the princess said, her tone icy.
Atlas met her gaze evenly. "I didn't come to justify myself. I came because Lysander's next move will end this alliance if we're not prepared."
Leon's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "And why should we trust you?"
Atlas flinched at the question, his eyes flickering to Leon's for the briefest moment. "You don't have to. But I know the relic's power, and I know how Lysander plans to use it. Without my help, you'll lose this war."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone. Finally, the Eastern prince spoke. "Then speak. What is Lysander planning?"
Atlas stepped forward, placing the shard of obsidian on the table. "The relic is unstable. Lysander's sorcerers have been pushing it to its limits, and it's starting to fracture. If it breaks, the resulting explosion will devastate everything within miles."
The princess raised an eyebrow. "And you know this how?"
"I've seen it," Atlas said simply. "The Holy Kingdom has records of similar artifacts. They're dangerous, unpredictable. If Lysander continues to use it, he'll destroy not just us, but his own forces as well."
---
Leon's Struggle
As the meeting progressed, Leon found it increasingly difficult to focus. Seeing Atlas again stirred a storm of emotions he wasn't ready to face. Anger, betrayal, longing—all of it threatened to overwhelm him.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Leon stayed behind, staring at the map in front of him. He didn't notice Atlas lingering until the tent flap rustled.
"I didn't come to hurt you," Atlas said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
Leon didn't look up. "Then why did you leave?"
Atlas hesitated, the question cutting deeper than he expected. "I... didn't know who I was. I didn't want to drag you into my chaos."
"You did that anyway," Leon snapped, his voice sharp. He turned to face Atlas, his eyes blazing. "You left me, Atlas. You left Eli. And now you think you can just walk back in and act like nothing's changed?"
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Atlas said, his voice steady but pained. "I'm asking for a chance to make things right."
Leon's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "You want to make things right? Then prove it. Because right now, I don't know if I can believe a word you say."
---
Lysander's Retaliation
In Fleur's capital, Lysander stood before the relic, his sorcerers working frantically to stabilize its power. The artifact pulsed erratically, its glow flickering like a dying star.
"How long until it's ready?" Lysander demanded, his voice sharp.
The lead sorcerer shook her head. "The artifact is reaching its limit. If we push it any further—"
"Do it," Lysander snapped. "We don't need it to last forever. We just need one decisive strike."
The sorcerer hesitated but nodded, returning to her work. Lysander turned to his generals, his expression cold and calculating.
"Prepare the troops," he ordered. "Mondell and his pathetic alliance won't see this coming."
---
A Fragile Alliance
Back at the allied camp, the leaders reconvened to discuss their next move. Tensions remained high, with the Arabic princess openly questioning Atlas's motives and the Eastern prince remaining cautiously neutral.
"We don't have the luxury of doubt," Leon said, his voice firm despite the turmoil within. "If Atlas is right, the relic is more dangerous than we realized. We need to act before Lysander uses it."
The princess leaned back in her chair, her expression skeptical. "And if he's wrong? What then?"
Leon met her gaze evenly. "Then we adapt. But if we don't act, we lose everything."
Atlas watched silently, his heart aching as he saw the weight Leon carried. He had hoped to ease that burden, but instead, he had only added to it.
As the meeting ended, Leon stood and addressed the room. "We march at dawn. This ends now."