We settled into the oval chairs around my desk, and I recounted my dream again—the terror, the blood, the ants and rats, Sir Alex's voice reaching out from the shadows. The office was thick with tension; every eye on me, every mind absorbing each detail.
And then—the door burst open.
General Valen, flushed and breathing hard, stepped in, immediately taking the chair beside Hector. His presence made the air even heavier, his gaze serious enough to still the faint hum of magic in the room. I started retelling the dream again, this time with more emphasis on the desperation and peril of Sir Alex and Sir Jin. The shadows of my vision seemed to hang in the corners of the office, invisible but almost tangible.
By the time the story ended, the room was silent except for the occasional gasp. It was decided: we were going. No more delays. Sir Alex and Sir Jin needed help.
Our party formed in record time:
