ELIAS'S POV
[2 Weeks Later]
The tent was dim, the canvas walls muffling the distant clamor of the battlefield. The smell of dust and smoke from the fires outside hung heavy, mixed with the faint tang of iron and sweat.
Maps were spread across a wooden table, candles flickering, casting long shadows over faces tense with calculation and exhaustion.
I sat slumped in the center, my hands cradling my head for a moment before I lowered them to the table. Cassian leaned over the maps beside me, wind magic subtly rippling through the air as if testing its own strength.
Alaric, my father-in-law, stood near the head of the table, broad-shouldered, arms crossed. Roland, the head of the Scholars' Tower, scribbled notes while frowning over the figures. Other generals shifted in their seats, growling softly in frustration.
