The fleet was mobilizing, but the burden on Lena's shoulders was heavier than it had ever been. Standing on the bridge of the flagship, she could see the faces of the officers and soldiers below—faces filled with hope, fear, and uncertainty. They were all waiting for her to lead them into the storm, but could she even lead herself anymore?
The core had become a constant presence. She could feel it, pulsating within her mind, offering power and control with each passing moment. But at what cost? What would she lose next?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden flash of movement as Tavon and Elias joined her on the bridge. Tavon's face was grim, and Elias seemed as though he had something weighing on his mind.
"Lena," Elias began, his voice filled with concern. "The Alliance is on edge. There's word of another faction trying to make contact with the Rhytil."
Lena clenched her jaw. "Who?"
"I'm not sure yet," Elias replied. "But if we don't act fast, they could become a real problem. We need to crush any signs of dissent immediately. If they think we're divided—"
"Then we're done," Lena finished for him, her tone sharp. She turned her gaze back to the vast expanse of space outside the viewport. "Let's make sure they understand that we're united."
The next few days were filled with tension.
As Lena and the Alliance prepared for a series of coordinated strikes on the Rhytil's supply chains, she couldn't shake the feeling of impending disaster. The clock was ticking, and every move she made felt like it could tip the balance in ways she wasn't prepared for.
The core was a dangerous tool. She had to be careful not to let it control her. But each day, it felt harder and harder to resist its influence.
As Lena stood in the war room, surrounded by her closest allies, she knew that she was standing on the precipice. The decisions she made in the coming days would either save or doom them all. But the price of victory, as she had learned time and time again, would be far steeper than she could imagine.