They all stepped further into the manor's dim chambers, the room shivered with unspoken plans.
Viscount Kael Draylen led Aric down the narrow corridor, footsteps muffled by the crumbling stone beneath them.
Aric's sharp eyes flicked over the makeshift base the Covenant had built within the fallen manor, noting the shadows that seemed to cling to every corner.
Flickers of candlelight illuminated faces buried in scrolls, maps, and cryptic letters. It was no grand palace of power—but something much more dangerous.
Kael glanced back at him, his voice low and deliberate, the tone of a man who had learned long ago the weight of words.
"It's time you understand what the Covenant's been preparing. We've been patient, watching the others fight amongst themselves, while we've been working in silence."
Aric gave a curt nod.
"Let's hear it."
Eliron, always quick with a word, leaned back, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
