Kaelen.
The name tasted bitter on his tongue, a reminder of defiance that had evaded his grasp for far too long. Thorne rose abruptly, his cloak swirling around him like living smoke, and strode to the edge of the chamber, where a massive map lay sprawled across an obsidian table.
"Arvyn," Thorne called, his voice echoing with authority.
The door creaked open, and Lieutenant Arvyn stepped in, his head bowed. His dark armor gleamed under the ominous red light, every plate etched with sigils of loyalty to Thorne.
"My lord."
"Report," Thorne ordered, his eyes never leaving the map.
Arvyn approached cautiously. "The scouts have confirmed Kaelen's location. He is in the Whispering Vale, beyond the Ardarith Forest."
Thorne's lips curved into a menacing smile. "The Whispering Vale," he repeated, his voice dripping with mockery. "How poetic of him to hide in a place known for secrets."
