Cyrin's face was white, his eyes haunted by the memories of his past. "Revenge. Power. The Shadowfire Citadel has always coveted Ardentia's throne. And with Corvus as their puppet, they can claim it for themselves." He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They'll stop at nothing to get it, too."
The room erupted into chaos, with everyone speaking at once, their voices rising to a fever pitch. Duke Harlen shouted for order, his voice booming above the din, but it was no use. The news had sent shockwaves through the room, and panic was setting in.
As the chaos reigned, Cyrin's eyes locked onto Kaelith's, his gaze burning with a fierce intensity. "We're in over our heads," he mouthed, his voice lost in the cacophony.
Kaelith nodded, his face set, a cold determination burning in his eyes. "Then let's make sure we take them down with us," he replied, his voice equally quiet, but filled with a fierce resolve.
The two men shared a nod, a silent understanding passing between them. They knew what they had to do, and they were ready to face the darkness head-on. The fate of Ardentia hung in the balance, and they were the only ones who could tip the scales.
Duke Harlen's voice cut through the chaos, his words ringing out like a clarion call. "We need to get the king to safety. Now." The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. It was time to act, and the fate of Ardentia hung precariously in the balance.
As the room began to disperse, Cyrin's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with the implications of the Nightshade Sorceresses' involvement. But a nagging feeling in the back of his mind refused to be silenced. Something was still off, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.
He turned to Kaelith, his voice low and urgent. "Wait, think about it. If Ravenna and Lilith are working together, and they've brought their armies to bear... then who does the third army belong to?"
Kaelith's eyes widened, his face set in a fierce scowl. "You're right. We assumed it was all part of their plan, but what if it's not?"
Duke Harlen's face was etched with concern, his eyes locked onto Cyrin's. "You're thinking there's a third player involved?"
Cyrin nodded, his face set. "It's possible. And I need to find out who it is." He turned to Kaelith. "I'm riding out to the western border. I need to get a look at that third army."
Kaelith's face was set. "I'm coming with you."
But Cyrin shook his head. "No, I need you here, with Harlen. We need to make sure the king is safe, and we need to prepare the defenses." He turned to Duke Harlen. "You're heading to Erenhall, to spread the word and rally the troops?"
Harlen nodded, his face grim. "Yes, I'll make sure the king is informed, and we'll prepare the city for siege."
Cyrin nodded, his face set. "Good. I'll take a small team, and we'll scout out the western army. We'll meet back at Erenhall, and we'll come up with a plan to take down these armies."
With a swift nod, Cyrin turned to leave, his mind racing with possibilities. Kaelith clapped him on the back, a silent understanding passing between them. They would face whatever darkness was coming, head-on.
As Cyrin rode out into the night, the shadows seemed to swallow him whole, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of his presence. The fate of Ardentia hung in the balance, and the darkness was closing in fast.
Cyrin's mind was a whirlwind of possibilities as he rode with his small team of scouts towards the western border, the darkness of the night seeming to press in on them from all sides. The trees loomed above, their branches creaking ominously in the wind, and the only sound was the rhythmic thump of their horses' hooves on the earth.
Which lord could be behind the third army? The question echoed in his mind like a mantra, a constant refrain that he couldn't shake. Lord Arin of the Wyntham Steppes was a possibility, but he was a vassal of the crown, sworn to defend Ardentia, not attack it. Lord Baldwin of the Ironshore was a ruthless pirate, but he didn't have the resources to command an army of this size. Lord Rowan of the Mistwood Marches was a mysterious figure, but he was rumored to be a neutral party in the conflict.
And then, as he rode, the pieces began to fall into place. Cyrin's eyes widened, his face a mask of shock. The third army belonged to Lord Valen Ashencrow, the Second Shadow Knight of the Shadowfire Citadel. He was the twin brother of Corvus Nightwing, and he had been rumored to be the more ruthless of the two.
Cyrin's mind reeled as he recalled the stories he had heard about Valen. He was a master of shadows, a sorcerer-knight who wielded the dark arts with deadly precision. And he was here, in Ardentia, with an army at his command.
The implications were staggering. The Nightshade Sorceresses, Corvus, and Valen Ashencrow... they were all working together, their armies converging on Erenhall like a noose tightening around the kingdom's neck.
Cyrin's face was grim as he gazed out at the western army, their campfires burning like fireflies in the darkness. He raised a fist, signaling his team to halt, and they reined in their horses, watching and waiting as the enemy army came into view.
"We need to get back to Erenhall," Cyrin said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to warn them... it's not just Corvus and the Nightshades. It's Valen Ashencrow, and he's not to be underestimated."
The scouts nodded, their faces set, and they wheeled their horses around, racing back into the night, the darkness swallowing them whole as they rode to deliver the news that would change the course of the war.