Elara shrugged, though her nerves were raw. "I don't have much left to lose."
A silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken questions. Elara studied Lucien's face, searching for any hint of deception. Instead, she saw only exhaustion and a flicker of something else-regret, maybe, or hope.
Before she could speak, a commotion erupted in the main chamber. Raised voices, hurried footsteps. Elara and Lucien rushed back to find Mira at the door, her face pale.
"There's been an attack," Mira announced. "One of our sentries was found dead near the river. Drained."
A chill swept through the Sanctuary. Elara's mind raced. Dorian was sending a message.
Rowan's voice was grim. "It's begun."
Elara's resolve hardened. She looked at Lucien, her jaw set. "We don't have much time."
As the council gathered and the witches prepared for war, Elara felt the storm gathering inside her-a mix of fear, anger, and something dangerously close to hope.
The fragile peace was breaking, and soon, nothing in Ashenfall would ever be the same.