"Listen—and listen well," Galen's voice sliced through the tension like a blade. "I'm not repeating myself."
The flicker of sunlight mirrored in his crimson eyes as he looked around the courtroom. His voice, though detached, carried the weight of certainty.
"Amthar is in crisis. Sylvathar has made landfall."
Gasps broke out, hushed whispers following like a wind passing through dry grass.
"He's planning something," Galen continued. "Something massive. Big enough to tear through all three kingdoms—one after the other. He's not sending warnings. He's not asking questions. He's coming."
He let that sink in.
"I came here for two reasons: First, to let you know the threat is real. Second—" Galen paused, eyes shifting across each stunned face—"to tell you that if Solara wants to survive, you'll accept the alliance Queen Lucy will propose in the meeting two days from now."
Murmurs broke again—too loud this time.
One man rose from his seat like a gust of haughty wind.
