The second evening since Lenora's departure was calm, the skies streaked with the last vestiges of sunlight.
But the air was heavy with anticipation, a storm was brewing, not of weather but of war.
Kael sat in his private study, a half-empty goblet of wine on the table beside him.
His mind was sharp, his thoughts running over every detail of the past few days.
He had sent Lenora back to her family knowing full well that her pleas would fall on deaf ears.
Pride was a disease, and the Elstrand family was riddled with it.
Kael leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "Two days," he murmured to himself. "More than enough time for them to rally what little strength they have left."
As if on cue, a knock came at the door. "Enter," Kael called, his voice calm but commanding.
The door opened, and Gerald stepped in, his face as composed as ever.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING