The days after her confrontation with Corin passed in a blur of strategy meetings and preparations for the final push against Duras. The army, though weary from months of near-constant battle, rallied behind her. But the silence that hung between them—between Elira and her closest companions—was deafening. No one spoke of Corin's betrayal, and Elira knew it was because they didn't know what to say. Some might still believe in him, might think that he was a victim of circumstance. Others would see him as nothing more than a traitor.
And Elira? She didn't know what she believed anymore.
She had given Corin a chance to redeem himself, but the cost was steep. She hadn't been able to forgive him, not fully. But the army needed a united front. And so, Corin remained in his place at her side, though it was clear that something had irrevocably shifted between them. She couldn't trust him as she had before. He had shattered that bond with his lies and his treachery.
But now, with the final battle looming on the horizon, Elira's mind could not afford to linger on personal grievances. There were more important matters at hand.
The war council was in session, a cramped tent filled with maps, scrolls, and the faint, stale scent of sweat and leather. The leaders of the rebellion sat around a large table, their faces drawn with fatigue, but their resolve never faltering. The meeting was tense, the air thick with the weight of the decisions they had yet to make.
Elira stood at the head of the table, her eyes scanning the faces of her most trusted commanders. Kael, of course, was there, as was Aric, the grizzled veteran of countless skirmishes, and Lyssa, the quick-witted strategist who had become Elira's closest advisor. But there was another presence now—Corin.
He sat at the table, his posture stiff, his gaze lowered. The others did their best to pretend nothing had changed, but Elira could see the unspoken words in their eyes. They were watching her, waiting for her to make a move.
"Commander," Kael said, breaking the silence, "we have received word that Duras is massing its forces in the north. They are preparing for one final assault."
Elira nodded, her gaze hardening. "They've underestimated us before, Kael. We won't give them the chance to do so again."
The room fell silent as she traced a line across the map with her finger. Duras was the largest and most formidable empire in the known world, and the war had been long and brutal. The rebellion had fought fiercely, but victory had always seemed just out of reach. Until now. The tide had turned in their favor, but at a great cost.
"We need to strike fast," she said, her voice steady. "If we can catch their forces off guard and split them at the pass, we'll have a chance."
Aric leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "The mountains to the north are treacherous. The weather's turned against us. We won't be able to move quickly through there."
Lyssa's eyes gleamed with determination. "But that's precisely why they won't expect us. We could use the terrain to our advantage."
Elira nodded, her mind working quickly through the strategy. She knew that every decision she made could be their last. The rebellion needed to win this battle, or they would be wiped out for good.
"What about the Blackthorn Syndicate?" Lyssa asked, glancing at Elira. "We've heard rumors that they've been seen near Duras' encampment. If they've made an alliance…"
Kael spoke before Elira could answer. "The Syndicate's loyalty is as fickle as ever. If we're going to rely on anyone, it's us. Not them."
Elira's thoughts briefly flickered to the Syndicate's mysterious riders. She had worked with them before, but their motives were always questionable. Even if they agreed to fight alongside them, it was unlikely they would do so without expecting something in return. The Syndicate had a reputation for dealing in shadowy exchanges, and Elira wasn't about to be their pawn.
"I agree," she said, her voice firm. "We move forward without them. The army must rely on our own strength, not mercenaries."
The others nodded, their expressions serious.
Corin, who had been silent up until now, spoke up quietly. "I know the terrain. I can guide the forces through the mountain passes. I've been there before. It's a hard route, but it's the fastest."
Elira's eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of the man he used to be. He had been a skilled tactician, a man whose knowledge of the land had saved them on more than one occasion. But now, with his betrayal hanging between them, Elira couldn't help but wonder if his suggestion was out of genuine loyalty or something else.
"Is it worth the risk?" Kael asked, his voice skeptical. "We can't afford any more mistakes."
Elira hesitated. She wanted to refuse him, wanted to shut him down completely, but her pride and her anger weren't enough to outweigh the practical necessity of his expertise.
"Yes," she said finally. "We'll use the pass. But Corin, if anything goes wrong, I won't hesitate to hold you accountable. Understand?"
Corin nodded silently, his face unreadable. "Understood."
The tension in the room was palpable, but Elira refused to let it show. She turned back to the map, her eyes narrowing.
"We'll begin preparations at dawn," she said. "No one is to leave the camp. This is our final chance. Duras must fall here, and we'll give them no mercy."
The council members stood, murmuring their assent. Elira didn't move. She stayed by the map, her hand resting on the edge of the table. As the others filtered out of the tent, she glanced over her shoulder to see Corin still seated, his face drawn in a way that made her heart ache.
But no matter how much it hurt, she couldn't let herself forget the truth. He had betrayed them. And the war was bigger than any personal feelings she might have left for him.
With a final breath, Elira turned away from him and walked out of the tent, her mind set. The final battle awaited, and there was no room for weakness now.