As days passed, Anora's unease deepened as she noticed fewer and fewer members of the coven joining Lady Ayana. The ominous silence that pervaded the castle corridors spoke volumes, a harbinger of impending turmoil. Anora wasted no time in taking action, notifying the appointed weapons master and Red Legion captain, Teori, to prepare the Red Legion soldiers. She wanted her men alert, ready to defend the castle of Cadan should a battle arise within its walls.
Lieutenant Calith was to remain by Anora's side at all times, accompanied by a handful of guards. Teori, always close by for Anora's protection.
The castle guards were most definitely uneasy with the growing presence of the coven members. However, they thought it best not to question the comings and goings of the great order, trusting in Anora's leadership.
Anora had managed to establish communication with her father before his departure for Ailon. The Arathean king had warned her to remain vigilant should the coven try anything nefarious. As for the crime he was accused of committing, the king had only promised to explain further upon his return. Anora couldn't shake the sickening feeling that lingered in the depths of her gut. She feared her father might not return at all.
A thought she buried for the time being.
For days, Anora grappled with the weight of her father's actions. She reasoned endlessly as to why he would violate the dictum. The dark angels threatened her people, and the corruption of life spread faster that they could cope. In her mind, a herald would relieve the pressure on her people, serving in ways the gods did not. From a strategic standpoint, she understood her father's motives, but she also realized the perilous path he had set them upon. Doing so invited the wrath of the Lumerians. Not to mention the fact that Ivane wanted to seize the Lothrans source of energy thus inciting war.
A Great War. The Aratheans would initiate a fallout with the Lothrans, Lumerians; all while fighting off the dark angels and staving off the corruption. Things she saw no possibility to.
Leaning against the open window of her grand quarters, Anora felt light-headed. Her chest tightened, her head ached, and she struggled to draw breath. Nausea churned in her stomach, threatening to overwhelm her, yet she fought to keep it at bay. Her vision blurred with tears as dizziness enveloped her, leaving her feeling numb and helpless.
In that moment of vulnerability, Anora grappled with the bleak reality of their situation. The looming spectre of war, fuelled by survival and far-reaching ambition, cast a shadow over their world, threatening to consume everything in its path. With each laboured breath, Anora felt the weight of their impending destruction bearing down upon her, a relentless force that left her feeling powerless against the tide of fate.
Is this what doom felt like?
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