The cold winds howled against the towering walls of Veridrion Keep, their mournful wail echoing like whispers of forgotten spirits. Veridrion is a small island where the last survivor of Vireldaens. Within its stone halls, the weight of destiny pressed down upon those gathered, knowing the days ahead would decide the fate of Veridrion—and perhaps the world.
Eirlys moved swiftly through the dim corridors, her heart heavy not just with the gravity of their situation but with the knowledge that time was slipping away. In this small island fortress where the survivors clung to hope, the council met to devise a desperate plan.
As she entered the great council chamber, the sight before her was fraught with tension. The flickering firelight cast long shadows as her allies gathered around the weathered council table. 
Sir Cedric sat nearest the hearth, his armor dull and his expression grim. Across from him lounged Lady Morgana, her presence as cold and distant as the howling wind outside. 
Her dark robes draped over her chair, and her calculating gaze flicked to Cedric, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.
Eirlys cleared her throat, breaking the charged silence. “We haven't found the crown. Morven escaped during our battle in the forbidden forest.”
Lady Morgana stood and leaned over the large map spread across the table, worry etched on her brow. “Morven’s forces are amassing in the south, bolstered by dark creatures—wraiths twisted by his sorcery. He marches with intent toward the ruins of Drak’lor.”
Cedric nodded, tension radiating from him. “We must act before he reaches the Crown. If Morven gains its power, Vireldaen will fall completely—if it hasn’t already.”
Eirlys turned to Morgana, who regarded them with a sardonic smile. “What counsel do you offer, my lady?”
“Counsel?” Morgana echoed, her voice smooth yet dripping with disdain. “You seek to march headlong into death, wielding swords as if they can halt an ancient sorcerer’s power. This is folly.”
Cedric’s fist slammed onto the table, the noise echoing like thunder. “What would you have us do, Morgana? Sit idly by while Morven raises his cursed crown? Your reluctance to act is infuriating!”
Morgana’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “I will not ally myself with those too blinded by their own bravado. You rush to your doom without a plan. Morven is no mere warlord; he commands magic that transcends your understanding.”
“You speak of understanding, yet you hide behind your walls, unwilling to risk anything for Vireldaen—Veridrion” Cedric shot back, his voice rising. “If you care not for the fate of this land, then begone! Let those who have courage take the field!”
Morgana’s expression hardened. “Courage, Sir Cedric, is not the same as recklessness. I will not risk the lives of my people on a fool’s errand. Vireldaen is a ruin, and your charge toward Drak’lor will only serve to feed Morven’s power.”
Cedric’s face flushed with rage. “How dare you speak of failure when you’ve done nothing but wallow in safety while we fight for our home! The blood of Vireldaen’s people stains this land, and you speak of them as if they are already lost. If you will not stand with us, then I will go to Drak’lor without you!”
Morgana stepped closer, her voice a low, icy whisper. “You will not get far, Sir Cedric. Morven’s reach extends beyond your comprehension. You ride to your death, and I refuse to follow.”
The tension in the room thickened, silence stretching taut. Eirlys, caught between them, felt the weight of their words. She could see the raw grief in Cedric’s eyes and the cold determination in Morgana’s, both unwilling to yield.
“Morgana,” Eirlys began, her voice steady though strained, “I understand your reluctance. But we cannot sit idle while Morven claims the Crown. If he succeeds, darkness will spread across the world. Your people will suffer too.”
Morgana’s gaze softened momentarily, but her resolve remained unyielding. “And you think my people are not suffering? Veridrion Keep is a fortress surrounded by enemies. Morven’s wraiths prowl the woods, sowing fear and discord. I will not throw away the safety of my people for a lost cause.”
“A lost cause?” Cedric spat, his voice trembling with anger. “Is that what you think of us? Of Vireldaen?”
Morgana met his fierce gaze. “I think you are blinded by loyalty. You fight for a kingdom that no longer exists. You cling to memories of a land that was, while Morven shapes the future.”
Cedric clenched his fists, anger burning in his chest. “Then what would you have us do? Surrender? Bow to Morven and his wraiths? Let the darkness consume all we have left?”
Morgana rose, her dark robes swirling as she approached him, her voice low and fierce. “I would have you think, Sir Cedric, before you act. If we are to defeat Morven, we must outwit him. We must gather intelligence and learn his weaknesses. Charging into battle without a plan will only ensure our defeat.”
“And what plan do you propose?” Cedric demanded, his hands trembling with frustration. “What grand scheme have you concocted while the rest of us fight and die?”
Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “I propose we gather information, learn Morven’s true intentions. He is powerful, yes, but he is not infallible. We must undermine him, strike when he is vulnerable. But this requires patience, not reckless abandon.”
Eirlys stepped forward, placing a hand on Cedric’s arm, urging calm. “Sir Cedric, Lady Morgana speaks some truth. I fought him face to face.”
Cedric turned to her, anguish evident in his gaze. “I know, Eirlys. But every day Morven grows stronger, and we do nothing. I cannot stand by while he destroys all we’ve fought for.”
Morgana’s voice softened, though her tone remained firm. “I understand your frustration. But if we are to defeat Morven, it must be together. I will lend my resources, but I will not risk my people on a fool’s errand. We must be prepared.”
Cedric’s anger began to wane, but his resolve was fierce. “Very well, Lady Morgana. But know this—my loyalty lies with Vireldaen, not with you. I will do whatever it takes to stop Morven, with or without your help.”
As the argument simmered down, Eirlys felt the need for unity pressing upon her. “We are stronger together than apart. Morgana, we may not share the same loyalties, but our goal is the same. We must protect what remains of Vireldaen, even if it is but ruins.”
Morgana regarded them all, her expression inscrutable. “I will not risk my people lightly, but I will contribute to our cause. However, if we march toward Drak’lor, it must be with a strategy that considers every possible outcome.”
With a reluctant nod, Cedric accepted her terms, though the fire of anger still flickered in his eyes. The council might be fragmented, but their shared purpose flickered like a dim flame in the darkness.
As plans began to take shape, the winds outside howled fiercely, echoing the turmoil within the keep. Eirlys felt a flicker of hope amid the uncertainty—together, they might withstand the storm that was to come.