BANG!
Suddenly, the doors to the conference room burst open with a thunderous crash, like someone had slammed into them with full force.
Tap, tap, tap... Rapid footsteps echoed through the room.
"Master, something's wrong!" came a hurried, raspy voice—aged and urgent.
"Galen?"
The moment Vaelion heard that familiar voice, his expression shifted dramatically. He snapped his head toward the doors, where the footsteps were coming from. There, striding in with a look of deep concern, was Galen—the old elven mage and a legendary Epic-ranked hero of the Kingdom of the Night Elves, his violet robes fluttering with each step.
"Galen, what are you doing here?" Vaelion asked quickly, though a sinking feeling had already begun to gnaw at his gut.
"Master…" Galen hesitated, clearly struggling with what to say. His eyes flicked toward Ethan, and in that single glance, a storm of emotions swirled—fury, frustration, helplessness, even fear and caution.
