Last Dance Before the Storm

Riley.

Riley stood at the front of the crowded war room, the weight of the silence pressing down on him like a physical thing. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture sharp, his eyes scanning the room full of men and women who had all grown accustomed to his commands. The air smelled faintly of wood and stone, the lingering scent of torches burning just beyond the heavy curtains. The room was bathed in golden light from the single window, high in the corner, its view overlooking the royal gardens.

There was no question about what needed to be done—he'd been preparing for this moment for months. But still, the tension was almost palpable. As much as he had trained and planned, the next seven days would be a dance with time, a battle fought in the shadows before the real fight began.