After yet another frustrating court session, Dakota stormed out of the council chamber, his boots striking the polished stone floors like war drums. His face was etched with disappointment, his jaw clenched as though holding back words too sharp to utter before the crown prince's advisers.
He had warned them—again—that Estalis and Zura were planning a direct strike on the capital. But Reuben's inner circle had scoffed, dismissing his suspicions as paranoia.
Instead, they insisted on fortifying Fereya and the northeastern borders of Alta-Sierra, as if guarding distant walls could save the heart of the realm.
Dakota felt the weight of their ignorance like chains around his chest. With a grim resolve, he turned away from the palace hall and made his way to Astrid's chambers, where Heimdal, the once-mighty king, lay confined.
