Chapter 465: Whispers of the Wind

The victory at the village brought little solace. The villagers, though battered and weary, moved with the somber efficiency of those who knew the danger had not passed. They cleared the battlefield of the twisted remains of their enemies, their faces etched with the grim understanding that the reprieve was temporary.

Elara stood at the edge of the village, her gaze fixed on the swamp. The morning light filtered through the dense canopy, casting long shadows across the ground. It was quiet now—too quiet. The drumming had ceased, but the air was thick with anticipation, as if the swamp itself was holding its breath.

Morgana approached, her staff tapping softly against the ground as she walked. Her face was pale, and dark circles under her eyes betrayed the toll the battle had taken on her. "Elara," she said softly, "the barrier is holding, but just barely. The strain from that last attack was immense. We need to reinforce it if we're to withstand another assault."