The first light of dawn crept into Kael's chambers, casting a warm glow on the stone walls.
The memories of the night were vivid intense, chaotic, and, to his surprise, fulfilling in a way he hadn't expected.
Pulling on a loose tunic, Kael moved to the window and stared out at the horizon.
The peace of the morning felt fragile, like a glass about to shatter.
His instincts told him trouble was brewing, and it wasn't long before a sharp knock on the door confirmed it.
"Enter," Kael said, his tone already firm.
Gerald stepped inside, his usual composed demeanor marred by a trace of urgency.
In his hands was a rolled parchment, and Kael could tell by the butler's expression that the news wasn't good.
"My lord," Gerald began, bowing slightly, "scouts have returned with new reports. Another wave of refugees at least ten thousand is heading toward our borders."
Kael exhaled sharply, his brows knitting together. "Ten thousand more? We've barely begun managing the first wave."
