Moira's POV

The training ground stretches before me like a battlefield already claimed by determination. Warriors chug down the metallic-tasting stamina potions, their faces grimacing at the bitter liquid that will keep them fighting when their muscles should surrender. The air tastes of sweat and steel.

I weave between clusters of mothers clutching their sons, daughters, brothers with desperate intensity. Their whispered goodbyes slice through the morning air—words they pray ...