"We're not going to stop them with pretty words or old songs. We're going to stop them because we're still here. Because our blood didn't freeze when we saw the sky turn black. Because when the smoke hit our lungs, we kept moving."
He looked to the left, toward the tents where the wounded lay.
"You've already proven you can fight. You've survived the worst week in our history. And I'm telling you now—that wasn't the end. That was just the beginning."
He stepped down one level.
"They think elves are fractured. That we can't unite unless our forests burn. That we fight in circles while they eat our cities."
His voice rose slightly. Not a shout. Just pressure. Weight.
"But they've made a mistake. They lit a fire under the wrong kingdom. And we're not done. Not even close."
He opened one hand, palm up.
