The war room felt different with Nerys in it.
She sat at the edge of the table, small and pale, her hands twisted together in her lap. Emery remained close beside her—a quiet presence, a reminder that she was no longer alone. Mira stood near the doorway, watching everything with those dark, attentive eyes that missed nothing.
Zekar stood at the head of the table, flanked by Torvin and Thea. The map between them was marked with ink and small stones, each representing lives, choices, and the crushing weight of a war they could not afford to lose.
"Here is what we want them to believe." Zekar traced a line along the eastern passes. "Our main force is gathering here, preparing to strike at their supply lines. We've been building false camps, lighting extra fires at night, making certain their scouts see movement."
