Eryndor stepped forward to the table, his finger gliding across the vast map with practiced precision. "Here, in the northern farming valleys. And along the eastern riverbeds, where most of your grain is grown. Also, near the source of the western tributaries, affecting the water supply as it flows downstream."
He pointed to three distinct, widespread areas, tapping them lightly. "This isn’t a small or random attack. It’s planned, spread wide, and done with extre discretion."
He looked at Viana, his expression now conveying seriousness. "This is not the work of simple bandits, Princess. This requires organization, resources, and a deep understanding of your kingdom’s vulnerabilities. They seek to destroy from within, without a single sword drawn or a single arrow fired."
He offered her a faint, somber smile. "You seek knowledge of battle strategies, and here, a battle is already being waged, unseen."
Viana shook her head slowly, a tremor passing through her. What had once been a distant concern was now painfully clear.
The quiet room seed to press in on her. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled. "Elysia is facing two threats now."
She looked at the map, then back at Eryndor, her gaze steady. "The drought that is to co, and the attack from Prince Arin."
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her past knowledge. She rembered the sequence with chilling precision. In her previous life, the long, crippling drought had not been a singular event.
It had been followed, shortly after winter ended, by Prince Arin’s swift and brutal advance. The kingdom had been weakened, its people starving, its defenses strained, making them easy prey.
The thought sent a cold dread through her. The two events, seemingly unrelated to others, were in her mind a calculated, devastating one-two punch.
Eryndor’s gaze held hers, a profound understanding dawning in his ancient eyes. Slowly, he nodded, confirming what she had feared.
"The blight in the snow," he murmured, his voice gentle, carrying of surprise. He reached out, his hand hovering for a mont near her shoulder before pulling back.
"My kin will do everything within our power to help counter it. We have already dispatched scouts to gather more samples, to trace its composition, to seek redies."
He paused, his gaze returning to the map.
"But you must understand, Princess. This substance is designed to be persistent. It is a finely milled dust, almost invisible. It seeps deep into the frozen soil, bonding with the ice crystals, becoming one with the thawing earth. It will poison the groundwater, saturate the fields. Dispelling it is not like clearing a fog or lifting a curse. It demands a complete cleansing of the land itself, a process that can take years, even with great effort. We can mitigate its effects, perhaps, by diverting water, identifying less contaminated zones, but to entirely remove it... that would be an imnse challenge."
His words, delivered with quiet certainty, made the problem feel even heavier. The kingdom faced a slow, steady attack that would drain them over ti.
Viana clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The sheer cunning of the enemy, to devise such a slow, insidious weapon, filled her with a cold rage.
"And Prince Arin," she stated, the na a bitter taste in her mouth. She watched Eryndor closely, anticipating his answer. She already knew what it would be.
Eryndor’s gaze faltered for a fraction of a second, his ethereal beauty montarily flickered by regret.
"Prince Arin," he repeated, the na spoken with a sigh. "I am sorry, Princess. Truly. My kin... our ancient pacts and traditions prohibit direct interference in the wars of n, especially those of succession and conquest. They concern themselves with the balance of the mortal realm, not its specific rulers. We are observers, guardians of that greater balance, not participants in your fleeting struggles for power. Even for knowledge such as yours, those rules remain."
He looked away, then back at her, his expression resolute.
"However," he added, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, carrying a quiet promise, "my vows are my own. Though I cannot overtly aid you against Arin’s armies, I will do everything within my individual power to help you. To protect _you_, Princess. The burdens you carry are seen, and I will ensure your path is not cut short by those who would seek to extinguish your unique light."
His words, ant to reassure, only highlighted her loneliness. He could track poisons in the earth, offer counsel on obscure battle tactics, but when the armies marched, when the blades clashed, she would stand alone.
The gravity and the reality of her situation, the sheer burden of knowing what was coming, settled over her. The king and queen, the court, even her most trusted advisors like Arden and Reyes, remained unaware of how the threats fit together.
Only she, carrying the mories of a life that had already been lived, understood the interlocking doom.
Eryndor seed to sense her withdrawal. His presence, for all its power, always so strong, now felt like sothing distant. He t her eyes one last ti with a regretful glance, a silent acknowledgnt of the weight she carried.
Then, without a sound, he simply dissappeared. A shimring wave passed through the air where he had stood, and the room was empty once more.
The faint scent of pine lingered for a mont, then dissipated, leaving only the sll of old parchnt and the late-night chill remained.
Viana remained motionless at the table, her hand still resting on the detailed map of Elysia. The silence of the room was no longer peaceful.
She exhaled slowly, the sound barely audible. Every step of history she rembered had led to this mont. And yet, standing here in this tiline, knowing what was to co, she felt powerless.
Her fingers curled over the edge of the table, pressing into the worn wood as she fought the surge of frustration within her. She could warn the council. She could try to strengthen the defenses of Elysia before the drought took hold.
But would they listen? Would they act on a prophecy spoken from the lips of a princess whose warnings had no proof beyond mories of another life?
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