The night was eerily quiet, the calm before the storm. The city of Elandor was bathed in the pale light of the moon, the streets empty and the windows shuttered. The tension in the air was palpable, as if the very city itself was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable attack.
Draven stood on the battlements, his eyes scanning the darkened landscape beyond the city walls. The Lightforged Blade was strapped to his back, its presence a constant reminder of the battle that was to come. The city's defenses were as strong as they could make them, but Draven knew that the true test would come when the dark sorcerer unleashed his full power.
Aria joined him on the battlements, her expression calm but focused. "The soldiers are ready," she said quietly. "They know what's at stake."
Draven nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We'll need to be ready for anything. The sorcerer will strike with everything he has."