"...Amidst the hum of activity, at the camp's edge, Sebeth sat in solitude, a stark contrast to the surrounding tumult. He had crafted a simple seat from earth and stone, presumably without employing mana arts—a quiet testament to either restraint or fatigue. His chosen spot lay near where the goblin chief's charred remains had been only moments earlier. The soldiers had cleared the area at his unspoken request, leaving him in solitude.
Sebeth's eyes were locked on the horizon, watching the final remnants of the storm clouds fade away. His mind was a tumult of deep thoughts, his expression marked by distress and a silent determination. Clutched in his grasp was a minuscule wooden seal, its contours eroded yet clearly intentional in their crafting. He flipped it between his fingers, its significance weighing more in purpose than physical heft. This very seal was the one he had spotted amid a battle against the goblin chieftain.
His musings were interrupted by footsteps crunching over the battle-scarred earth. Alaric Stormrider, clad in battered but gleaming armour, approached with a casual confidence that belied the gravity of the situation.
"You’re quiet, Commander," Alaric remarked, his tone light but laced with concern. "Something on your mind?"
Sebeth did not immediately answer, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. Alaric followed his line of sight, taking in the picturesque view of the clearing sky and the faint wisps of storm clouds far in the distance.
"The view’s... not bad," Alaric admitted, his voice quieter now, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace.
Without a word, Sebeth raised his left hand, the wooden seal balanced on his palm, and extended it toward Alaric. The gesture was deliberate, his fingers brushing against the cold steel of Alaric’s armour as he offered the object. Alaric’s brow furrowed as he shifted his gaze from the horizon to the seal.
"What’s this?" he asked, taking the seal cautiously. As his fingers closed around it, recognition dawned in his eyes. His expression darkened, and his grip on the object tightened. "By the gods..." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "This does not bode well."
Sebeth finally spoke, his voice low and steady, though his eyes remained fixed on the retreating storm. "I fear this is just the beginning," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "And I wonder… will we be able to end this madness before—"
A gust of wind picked up, carrying his words away. Alaric said nothing further, his grip tightening on the seal as he stared into the horizon...."
