"Victory is never the end, only the silence before the next storm. For every enemy slain, another shadow learns to breathe."
The journey to the Whispering Fells was a blur of speed and strategic tension. We moved with maximum velocity, a silent, heavily armoured storm of BlackThorne guards, Northern Kingdom royal guards, and Betas, led by my command and Niko's focused gaze. The distance from the Keep to the South Border was significant, but the necessity was absolute. Every second, I pictured Vorrath's corrupted forces carving a path deeper into our territory, capitalizing on the temporary vulnerability of the Ironwood defences.
Niko rode beside me, her senses extended, constantly reporting the state of the psychic field. "The contagion is spreading, Your Majesty. Their malice is thick; a dark fog designed to cause terror and fracture the loyal forces."
