The Tide Turns

The day broke slowly, casting a muted light over the camp as Xypheron stood, his gaze fixed on the distant hills where the enemy was said to be gathering. The sound of soldiers moving, the rustle of armor, and the quiet murmur of orders filled the air, but Xypheron barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere—on the edge of the battlefield, where decisions would be made, and on Vexaria, whose absence was becoming an ache in his chest.

Despite his earlier command to prepare for action, a gnawing doubt clung to him. Something felt off. The enemy's movements had been too precise, too deliberate, as though they had foreseen every move. And the strange quiet that had settled over their camp in the last few hours only added to his unease. It wasn't just the battlefield he was concerned about—it was what he couldn't see, what was lurking just beyond his vision.

A soldier approached, her face grim. "My prince, the scouts have returned. The enemy's strength has increased. They've fortified their position near the river. They're waiting for us."

Xypheron's hand clenched around the hilt of his sword, the weight of their situation settling heavily on him. "How many?"

"Too many to engage in open combat without risking our forces," the scout replied. "They've brought reinforcements from the eastern territories. It's a trap, my prince. They're drawing us in."

Xypheron felt the tension in his chest tighten. A trap. It was exactly what he had feared. He had no intention of walking directly into their hands. There had to be another way.

He turned to his commanders, who were already gathering around him, their faces etched with the same mixture of determination and anxiety. "We need to outmaneuver them," Xypheron said, his voice steady. "We'll split our forces. A diversion to the east, and a flanking maneuver to the west. Force them to spread their defenses."

The commanders nodded in agreement, but the concern was still there in their eyes. It was a risky strategy, and the odds were still uncertain. But it was the only option they had.

As the troops mobilized, Xypheron couldn't shake the feeling that they were being played. There were too many variables, too many unknowns, and his gut told him that someone—some force—was pulling the strings in ways he couldn't yet understand.

---

Meanwhile, Vexaria's group had crossed into enemy territory. The landscape here was barren, the air thick with the scent of ash and smoke from recent battles. The ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble with the weight of the destruction that had already occurred. But Vexaria's focus remained sharp, her every sense attuned to the rhythm of the land. She knew the enemy was close. They could feel the shadows of their presence pressing in from every side.

She paused at the crest of a hill, the wind pulling at her cloak. Her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of movement, any hint of the trap she knew was being set. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from the thrill of the hunt—the strategy that would decide everything. They weren't just going to walk into a slaughter. She had a plan.

"Move quickly," Vexaria ordered her soldiers. "We won't wait for them to come to us. We'll make them come to us."

Her words were cold, decisive. There was no room for hesitation. She trusted the plan she had devised, and she trusted her soldiers.

As they advanced, Vexaria