The dawn broke over Nightfang's stronghold, casting a pale orange glow across the blood-stained earth. Though the nightspawn had been defeated, the lingering darkness left scars on both the land and its defenders. Soldiers moved in silence, tending to the wounded and fortifying the walls. There was little time for rest; they all knew the Abyss would not stay silent for long.
Lucian stood at the heart of the stronghold's main courtyard, his mind already racing with plans for the coming days. The battle had given them a brief reprieve, but it had also made one thing clear—they could not win this war alone.
He turned as Kael approached, his massive frame casting a long shadow. The warrior still bore fresh wounds from the fight, but his eyes were sharp and alert.
"We've counted the dead," Kael said grimly. "We lost twenty-three, mostly newer recruits. A few of the veterans didn't make it either."
Lucian clenched his fists. Each loss weighed heavily on him, but he knew that mourning could wait. "And the wounded?"
"Dozens, but they'll recover," Kael replied. "Lyra's been overseeing the healers. She wanted me to tell you we have enough supplies for now, but if we're planning to go on the offensive, we'll need more."
Lucian nodded. "We can't afford to be caught off guard again. We need allies, supplies, and a strategy that will give us an edge." He paused, his expression hardening. "Cassius will return, and next time, he won't come alone."
Kael grunted in agreement. "So, what's the plan?"
By mid-morning, Lucian had gathered the leaders of Nightfang in the war room. The tension in the air was palpable as they waited for him to speak.
"We're at a turning point," Lucian began, his voice steady and commanding. "The Abyss is growing stronger, and Cassius's presence confirms that we're running out of time. We can't keep fighting defensive battles—we need to strike back."
Lyra leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "You mentioned seeking out allies. Do you have specific clans in mind?"
Lucian pointed to a map spread across the table, indicating several key regions. "There are three major clans left that haven't fallen to the Abyss—the Ironfangs, the Shadowborn, and the Stormcallers. Each of them holds strategic importance, and if we can unite them under a single banner, we'll have a chance."
Draven crossed his arms, skepticism in his eyes. "Easier said than done. The Ironfangs don't trust anyone outside their own, the Shadowborn are scattered, and the Stormcallers… well, they're as unpredictable as the storms they summon."
"I'm aware," Lucian said. "But we don't have a choice. If we stand alone, we'll fall. If we unite, we might just have a chance."
Kael tapped his axe against the floor, a sign of agreement. "If anyone can convince them, it's you, Lucian. What's the first move?"
"We'll split into teams," Lucian said. "Kael, you'll take a group to the Ironfangs. Draven, you'll lead a mission to find the Shadowborn. Lyra and I will handle the Stormcallers."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "You're coming with me?"
Lucian gave her a wry smile. "Someone has to make sure you don't get into trouble."
A faint chuckle rippled through the room, easing some of the tension.
As the meeting adjourned, Lyra caught up with Lucian outside the war room. "Are you sure about this?" she asked. "Splitting our forces might weaken us if the Abyss strikes again."
"It's a risk we have to take," Lucian said, his gaze distant. "If we don't bring the clans together, it won't matter how strong Nightfang is—we'll be overwhelmed."
Lyra studied him for a moment before nodding. "All right. But if you're coming with me, you'd better be ready. The Stormcallers aren't exactly known for their hospitality."
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Lucian said with a faint grin.
That night, as preparations for the missions began, Lucian stood once more on the battlements, gazing out into the darkness. He could feel the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on him, but he refused to let it crush him.
This war wasn't just about survival—it was about reclaiming hope.