The Gathering Storm

The days following the battle were a blur of preparation. Tensions hung thick in the air, each breath heavy with the weight of what was to come. Xypheron and Vexaria barely spoke in the brief moments they shared, their focus entirely on what lay ahead. They could feel the shifting winds of fate, a storm that was closing in faster than they had anticipated.

Xypheron sat in his war room, poring over maps and reports, the dim light from the flickering candles casting long shadows on the stone walls. His brow furrowed as his eyes moved across the documents laid out before him. The enemy was still an enigma—no clear pattern, no discernible leader. But their attacks were growing bolder, more coordinated. It was as though they were testing his defenses, prodding for weaknesses.

"Do you have any new information?" Vexaria's voice broke through his thoughts, her presence a welcome distraction. She stood in the doorway, her figure silhouetted by the soft glow of the torches in the hall behind her. The quiet confidence she exuded was a constant source of strength for him.

He glanced up, his expression a mix of frustration and resolve. "Nothing concrete," he admitted, his fingers drumming against the table. "Whoever is behind this is clever. They're keeping their moves close to the chest. But we can't wait any longer. We need to strike first."

Vexaria stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the maps before settling on him. "What's your plan?"

Xypheron leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on hers. "I'm calling in favors. Reaching out to allies who owe me. We'll gather what intel we can, and then we hit them hard—before they have a chance to plan their next move."

She raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You make it sound