The days that followed at Shadow Ridge passed in a blur of preparation. Word had spread quickly—Elara Moonborn was building an alliance, and the winds of change were stirring across the divided territories.
But change never came without resistance.
From the highest towers of the fortress, Elara could see the clouds gathering on the horizon—thick and dark, pulsing with the promise of a storm. It wasn't just weather; it was an omen, a mirror to the tension building within their walls.
Kael found her standing alone at the battlements one evening, the wind tugging strands of hair free from her braid. He placed a hand on her back, grounding her.
"Another message came today," he said quietly. "From the Northfang Pack. They're hesitant. Afraid of retaliation from Vael."
Elara's jaw tightened. "Fear is how he controls them. If we let fear win, we're no better than cowards."
Kael's thumb traced soothing circles against her spine. "You're not alone in this, Elara. We'll stand with you. Whatever comes."
She turned to him then, letting her forehead rest against his chest. For a moment, they stood like that, wrapped in the simple comfort of each other's presence.
But the moment didn't last.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the stillness, and Ravynn appeared, her expression grim. "Scouts spotted movement near the western borders. A small force—Vael's colors."
Elara's heart leapt into her throat. It was earlier than she'd expected. She thought they had more time to solidify alliances, to prepare.
Apparently, Vael had other plans.
"How many?" Kael asked sharply.
"Not many," Ravynn answered. "A raiding party, maybe. A warning."
Elara straightened, fire sparking in her chest. "Then we respond in kind. We won't cower behind walls while they think they can pick us apart."
Selene joined them at that moment, a fierce gleam in her mismatched eyes. "You're right, Moonborn. Fear spreads like rot. Best to cut it out before it festers."
Plans were made swiftly. Defenders were positioned at the western watchtowers, traps laid among the narrow passes. They would meet the enemy not with desperation—but with strength and cunning.
As night fell, the first drops of rain began to patter against the stones. Thunder growled in the distance, low and menacing.
Elara lifted her face to the sky, letting the rain slick her skin.
The storm was coming.
And this time, she would meet it head-on.