The air within the palace had grown thick with tension. The battle lines were being drawn in secret chambers and whispered conversations, and though no one had openly declared war, everyone could sense the storm on the horizon. Laila moved through the halls of the palace, her mind racing with thoughts of Malik at the northern border and the unsettling intelligence he had sent. The Iron Claw was preparing for something larger, something far more dangerous than skirmishes at the border.
Beside her, Azeer’s golden eyes gleamed with a fierce intelligence, his telepathic voice calm but alert in her mind. "The storm is coming, Laila. We must be prepared for every strike, both seen and unseen."