Chapter 64: The Rising Tempest

The days leading up to the inevitable confrontation with the Elder Council passed in a blur of preparation. The Crimson Citadel, once a bastion of solitude for Lucian's clan, now pulsed with life and purpose. Warriors from various allied clans trained together, their different styles melding into a cohesive force.

Inside the grand strategy hall, a large map of the region sprawled across a polished oak table. Lucian stood at its head, flanked by Selene, Lyra, Torran, Magnus, and Valtor. Each carried the weight of their respective clans' futures on their shoulders, yet their determination united them.

"The Elder Council's forces have been sighted in the eastern territories," Torran began, gesturing to a marked point on the map. "They're moving faster than anticipated, but their numbers suggest they're gathering strength as they march."

"How large is their force?" Valtor asked, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs.

"Estimated at fifty thousand strong," Torran replied grimly. "And that doesn't include their elites or the council's personal guard."

A low whistle escaped Magnus. "Fifty thousand? I hope you've got a plan, Lucian."

Lucian's lips curved into a sly smile. "I always have a plan. Numbers don't win wars—strategy does. And we have something they don't."

Selene raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"Unity," Lucian said simply. "The council's strength lies in fear and control. They rule through division. But we're bringing clans together—clans that haven't stood side by side in centuries. That's something they won't expect."

Valtor nodded reluctantly. "A fair point. But unity alone won't stop their blades."

Lucian's smile turned cold. "That's why we'll make them bleed before they ever reach our gates."

As night fell, Selene led a small reconnaissance team into the eastern forests. The mission was simple: sabotage the council's supply lines and gather any information on their battle plans.

The team moved like shadows through the dense undergrowth, their movements silent and precise. Selene's sharp eyes scanned the terrain, every sound and movement analyzed for potential threats.

"Up ahead," Kieran whispered, pointing to a faint glow in the distance. "Campfires. Looks like we've found their supply convoy."

Selene signaled for the team to spread out, her mind already racing with possibilities. The convoy was heavily guarded, but the supplies—ammunition, food, and medical equipment—were vulnerable. If they could cripple the council's logistics, it would slow their advance considerably.

"We'll take out the guards first," Selene whispered to the team. "Then burn the supplies. No survivors—if anyone escapes, they'll warn the main force."

The team nodded, their expressions grim but resolute.

The attack was swift and brutal. Selene's team descended upon the convoy like predators, striking from the shadows with deadly precision. Arrows found their marks, blades flashed in the moonlight, and within minutes, the guards lay lifeless on the ground.

As the last of the supplies burned, Selene knelt by the body of a council officer, rifling through his belongings. Her eyes lit up as she pulled a sealed parchment from his satchel.

"What is it?" Kieran asked, wiping blood from his blade.

"Battle plans," Selene replied, a victorious grin spreading across her face. "This changes everything.

Back at the citadel, the mood was tense but hopeful as Selene presented the stolen plans to Lucian and the council.

"Their strategy is predictable," Lucian said, studying the document. "They're counting on overwhelming us with their main force while their elites target our leadership."

"They'll be expecting us to fight defensively," Selene added. "But if we strike first, we can catch them off guard."

Magnus grinned. "An ambush, then? I like it."

Lucian nodded. "We'll divide our forces. Magnus and Valtor will lead the main army to meet their vanguard, drawing their attention. Meanwhile, Selene and I will lead a smaller force to flank them and take out their elites."

Lyra frowned. "It's risky. If the ambush fails—"

"It won't," Lucian interrupted firmly. "Because we'll make sure it doesn't."

The dawn of the battle arrived with an eerie stillness. The allied forces, now over twenty thousand strong, marched to meet the Elder Council's army on the desolate plains east of the citadel.

Lucian rode at the front of his flanking force, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Beside him, Selene tightened her grip on her reins, her expression a mix of focus and determination.

"This is it," she said softly.

Lucian glanced at her, a rare softness in his gaze. "We've faced worse odds before. Trust in our strength."

Selene nodded, her resolve hardening. "Let's make them regret underestimating us."

As the sun rose, the two armies collided in a storm of steel and blood. Magnus's booming war cries echoed across the battlefield as the Iron Fangs tore through the council's vanguard. Valtor's precision strikes decimated their flanks, his warriors moving with lethal efficiency.

Meanwhile, Lucian and Selene led their force through the chaos, targeting the council's elites. The battle was fierce, every moment a test of skill and endurance. But with each enemy they cut down, their confidence grew.

By the time the sun set, the Elder Council's forces were in disarray. Their once-formidable army had been broken, their plans shattered by the unity and strength of the allied clans.

As the battlefield fell silent, Lucian stood amidst the wreckage, his blade slick with blood. Around him, his warriors cheered, their cries of victory echoing into the night.

"We did it," Selene said, her voice filled with both relief and exhaustion.

Lucian nodded, a rare smile playing on his lips. "This war isn't over, but tonight, we've won a crucial battle.