In the heart of Serenith, Sacred Roots seemed as tranquil as ever. The rogue monster attacks that had plagued the surrounding regions had all but ceased, thanks to Phoenix's relentless campaign of fire and fury. The citizens breathed easier, children played freely in the streets, and merchants filled the air with the lively chatter of trade.
Everything seemed as peaceful as ever, except that, it was not.
The Council chamber was still majestic. Sunlight filtered through the intricate stained-glass windows, but the beauty of the surroundings was lost on the person sitting there, his face heavy with unease.
Donovan, the elder elf whose wisdom had guided the council for years, sat at the head of the table. His usual jovial demeanour, marked by wry jokes and a twinkle in his blue eyes, was gone. He looked diminished, his shoulders hunched under the weight of betrayal.
