{"The balance of power is the scale of peace. "}
The silence stretched between us as we stood by the magic pond, the dim glow of the enchanted waters casting eerie reflections against the cave walls. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken truths, with the lingering grief of Althea's passing. Freyr stood close, his presence grounding me, his scent mingling with the crispness of the mountain air. Flora and Rita stood side by side, their postures rigid but ready, while Soren, ever the disciplined guard, remained a step behind them, his piercing gaze locked on Gerod.
The great dragon stood at the edge of the pond, his massive form a living shadow against the flickering light. His golden eyes held an ancient knowing, his scaled body unmoving, as if the very breath of the cave responded to him. Then, he spoke. "The fate of the realm has always rested upon you and Frery."
