In the dimly lit chamber of their underground sanctuary, the resistance gathered around a weathered wooden table. Maps, scrolls, and ancient tomes sprawled across its surface, illuminated only by the flickering candles scattered throughout the room. Xavier, Sophia, Tavian, Gabriel, Victor Rookwood, and Ezra leaned in, their expressions a mix of anticipation and trepidation.
The atmosphere was thick with tension as Gabriel traced his finger along the intricate patterns on a yellowed map, his eyes fixed on a long-forgotten city marked with faded ink. "This is where it all began," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The others leaned closer, hanging on his every word.