The Unseen Enemy

Vexaria's departure was swift and decisive. She left with a small contingent of soldiers, her face set in a mask of resolve. She didn't look back as they crossed the camp's boundary, the weight of their mission already heavy on her shoulders. Every step she took felt like a calculated move in the game that had no clear end. She was used to walking in the shadows, and now, more than ever, she would need to.

As they journeyed south, Vexaria's mind raced with the information Kaelen had provided. The enemy's movements were swift, their tactics unpredictable. She knew they were desperate to regain control, and that desperation made them dangerous. But Vexaria had no intention of allowing them the time or opportunity to do so.

The terrain grew more treacherous the closer they got to the southern strongholds, the land scarred by recent battles. The wind carried a strange scent, a mixture of dust and decay, as if the earth itself was mourning the loss of the lives that had been lost here. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of their horses' hooves against the ground.

Vexaria had always been a tactician, a strategist. But there was something about this conflict that felt different. It wasn't just about the battles—they were caught in a war of ideologies, of power struggles, and her own beliefs were at odds with the very thing they were fighting for.

Was it worth it? Was it worth sacrificing so much for a throne, for a future that felt more uncertain with every passing day?

She pushed the thought aside. There would be no time for reflection, no room for doubt. They had a mission, and she intended to see it through.

The hours passed in tense silence, the landscape becoming increasingly barren. As the night began to fall, they found a place to camp. Vexaria set up a watch and made quick arrangements for their next move. She knew they couldn't stay long in one place—they had to keep moving, stay ahead of their enemies.

As she sat by the fire,