As hundreds of elves stood ready, bows drawn and blades glinting under the filtered sunlight, the tension in the clearing was suffocating.
The Ironcrest Merchant Guild's knights and mages felt the weight of hundreds of deadly arrows aimed at their vital points, each elf perfectly still, their fingers resting lightly on the strings. If a single order was given, the entire caravan would be massacred in seconds.
Lyanna clenched her jaw. This wasn't just a standoff—it was a warning. Beside her, Gorren, their mage, surveyed the situation, his usual composed expression cracking with unease.
No one wanted a battle, especially not here, deep in the elf territory, where every tree and shadow seemed to be against them. This was not their territory advantage.
Just then, the ground trembled beneath them. A low, rumbling growl echoed through the trees as Lyra rode into the clearing atop her mount.
