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19 - The Night Before

Gavriel

In our war room, the atmosphere is charged, a blend of anticipation and underlying tension. The response from Rhiannon’s parents has arrived, a beacon of hope amid the uncertainty that’s shrouded us for so long.

They’re willing to meet, a first step on the treacherous path towards peace. Rhiannon is asleep, unaware of the developments, and here we are, planning every detail of our departure tomorrow, prepared for every eventuality, even an attack.

“I can’t believe they actually agreed,” Ivar comments, leaning back in his chair, the nonchalance in his voice not quite reaching his eyes. He’s been off lately, the usual lightness of his wit shadowed by the weight of our situation. “This is good, right?”

Soren, leaning heavily against the table, runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Yeah, willing to meet or set a damn trap. We can’t rule anything out.”

He’s right. Our isolation, by choice and circumstance, has always been our strength and our vulnerability. Now,
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