Orin's descent into paranoia was swift and merciless. Each day brought new accusations, each training session became more brutal. Warriors who had once proudly served under his banner now whispered among themselves, questioning whether divine favor had abandoned their champion.
In the fortress's main hall, before the assembled forces, Orin drove his soldiers through drills that left them bleeding and exhausted. "Again!" he roared as another warrior fell. "Or do you want to fail like we did against Kael? Maybe you're protecting the traitors among us!"
The soldier struggled to his feet, armor clanking, only to be struck down again by Orin's divine-enhanced blow.
"Enough."
Dain's voice cut through the chaos like a steel blade. The Last Knight stepped forward, his weathered face set in lines of disapproval. "Your paranoia is turning our army against itself, Orin."
"Paranoia?" Orin whirled to face him, divine energy crackling around his form. "You call it paranoia when our own forces sabotage us? When blessed weapons fail in the middle of battle? When our soldiers fall ill from poisoned supplies?"
"I call it a failure that requires clear thinking," Dain countered, "not blind rage."
"Blind?" Orin stalked closer to Dain, his voice dropping dangerously. "I see more clearly than any of you. Someone in this army is a traitor, Dain! And if we don't find them, Kael will destroy us all!" His voice echoed off the stone walls, making several soldiers flinch.
"And how many loyal soldiers will you break before you find this traitor?" Dain's calm seemed to infuriate Orin further. "How many good men and women will you drive away with your accusations?"
"Better to drive them away than let them stab us in the back!" Orin's fist slammed into a nearby weapons rack, sending blessed swords clattering to the ground. "Or have you forgotten what happened on the battlefield? Have you forgotten how many died because someone—"
"We need strategy," Dain interrupted firmly, "not wild accusations. Not this... spectacle of paranoia."
"Strategy?" Orin spat the word like poison. "Our strategy was perfect until someone within our own ranks—"
"Dain is right."
All eyes turned to Lysara, who had been observing from the side. She kept her voice steady, reasonable. "Whoever sabotaged you, if there was a traitor at all, will be more careful now. Accusing our own forces will only weaken us further."
"If there was a traitor?" Orin rounded on her, divine light blazing in his eyes. "You doubt what happened, scholar? Perhaps you'd like to explain how our divine relics lost their power? How our battle plans were known before we made our move?"
"I doubt nothing," Lysara replied calmly, though her heart raced. "I merely suggest that we consider all possibilities. Desperation can make us see enemies where there are none."
"Or perhaps," Orin stepped toward her, his voice dangerous, "it can make us overlook enemies hiding in plain sight."
"Careful, Orin." Dain's warning was soft but carried steel beneath it. "Lysara has served us faithfully. Her counsel has saved lives."
"Has it?" Orin's laugh was bitter. "Or has she simply been telling us what we want to hear? Playing the voice of reason while—"
"While what?" Lysara met his gaze steadily. "While advising caution? While suggesting we not tear ourselves apart with suspicion? If that makes me an enemy in your eyes, Orin, then perhaps you should ask yourself what kind of ally you've become."
The words hung in the air like drawn blades. For a moment, divine energy crackled visibly around Orin's clenched fists. Then, slowly, it faded.
"Watch yourself, scholar," he growled. "These are dangerous times to question a champion of the gods."
"These are dangerous times to be anything," she replied softly. "Which is why we need unity more than ever."
The logic of her words seemed to penetrate even Orin's rage. He glared at her but found no argument against such simple truth. With a final snarl of frustration, he stormed from the hall, leaving behind a wake of whispers and uncertain glances.
Dain turned to Lysara, his expression grave. "You take risks, speaking to him so boldly."
"Sometimes," she answered carefully, "reason must be bold to be heard."
Later that night, in their hidden meeting place, Elaris couldn't contain his amusement.
"That was a nice little speech you gave Orin," he smirked, leaning against a wall as Lysara reviewed ancient texts.
She sighed without looking up. "It had to be done. He was going to tear the army apart."
"You almost sounded like you cared." Elaris's eyes danced with mischief.
"I care about keeping us alive, Elaris." But there was no real bite to her words.
"Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Lysara shook her head, but couldn't quite suppress the hint of a smile that tugged at her lips. Their moment of levity was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Both quickly adopted their public personas as the war council gathered in the command chamber.
The air was thick with tension as Dain took his seat, arms crossed in thought while Orin resumed his restless pacing. Other leaders filed in, their faces grave in the torchlight.
"The sabotage was not the work of common soldiers." Dain's words fell into the silence like stones into still water. "Think about the pattern of attacks. The precision. The timing."
Ardyn lounged in his chair, swirling wine in a goblet. "Do tell us your theory, oh wise commander."
"No foot soldier could have altered the terrain," Dain continued, ignoring Ardyn's sarcasm. "No low-ranking warrior could have disrupted the divine relics. The weather itself turned against us." His eyes swept the assembled faces. "This was done by someone with power. Someone who understands both military strategy and arcane arts."
"You speak of a mage?" Queen Selena's crystal crown caught the torchlight. "There are few among us with such capabilities."
"Or perhaps," Duke Blackthorn growled, "we're looking at this wrong. Perhaps it's not one person, but a conspiracy."
Orin's fists clenched, divine energy sparking between his fingers. "Names, Blackthorn. Give me names or keep your suspicions to yourself."
"Peace, Orin," High Priestess Mara interjected, her white robes seeming to glow in the dim chamber. "Baseless accusations will only serve our enemies."
"Baseless?" Orin whirled on her. "Look at what happened! Our supplies spoiled, our weapons failed, our very soldiers fell ill! You call that baseless?"
"I call it concerning," Dain cut in. "But finding the truth requires careful investigation, not blind rage."
"Investigation?" Orin laughed bitterly. "While we investigate, Kael grows stronger. While we debate in circles, the traitor walks freely among us, probably listening to every word—"
"Then what do you suggest?" Ardyn interrupted, his tone mocking. "Shall we torture every soldier? Perhaps start with the ones who survived your glorious defeat?"
Lysara watched Orin's face contort with fury, carefully keeping her own expression neutral. Beside her, she felt Elaris shift almost imperceptibly.
"That's easier said than done, Orin." Dain leaned back, his weathered face lined with concern. "Whoever did this is careful. They didn't make a mistake. Not one that we can trace."
"Then we make them reveal themselves," Duke Blackthorn suggested. "Set a trap. Feed false information about another attack—"
"And risk more lives?" Queen Selena's voice cracked like ice. "How many more soldiers must die for your strategies?"
The argument spiraled, each leader speaking over the others until Orin's voice cut through the chaos:
"Perhaps," his eyes burned with renewed purpose, "it's time we sought divine guidance directly. The High Priestess could perform a revelation ritual—let the gods themselves show us the traitor in our midst."
The suggestion hung in the air like a sword about to fall. Lysara felt Elaris tense beside her, though he showed nothing outwardly. They had won many battles in their secret war, but this—this could destroy everything they had built.
And somewhere in the shadows of the fortress, truth and loyalty continued their deadly dance, while the gods' champions unknowingly helped tear their own ranks apart.