In the dimly lit chamber of Thorian’s grand hall, fourteen kings sat around a circular table, the strain of recent days etched deeply into their faces. The room was heavy with unspoken tension, each monarch wrestling with the gravity of their situation. The flickering torches cast ominous shadows on the stone walls as if the very castle sensed the coming storm.
King Darian of Elmswood drummed his fingers nervously on the wooden surface, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Across from him, King Eadric of Ravensford stared into the flickering flame of a single candle, his jaw clenched tight as if suppressing an outburst. King Aelfric of Stormhaven leaned back in his chair, a hand running through his dishevelled silver hair, while King Godric of Ironclad adjusted his sword belt repeatedly, the clinking metal echoing in the tense silence.