*Brook*

I stand at the table in the middle of the war room, the edges of the massive map curling up slightly under my palms, and listen as the generals argue around me. Their voices are low and tense, an overlapping hum of uncertainty and exhaustion that fills the space. At least they aren’t yelling at each other anymore. No one has the energy for that left in them. Instead, they speak in clipped phrases, drawing lines and circles on the map trying to find the best approach to end this war, like any of this can still be planned.

Maerilee is a shell of herself now. She sits at...