Rhaii Sawaqiz 

We're losing too many people. What's the plan, Kaelen? We need a miracle.

*Kaelen's dark eyes, usually narrowed in contemplation, flickered over the chaotic battlefield. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and fear, the desperate cries of the wounded mingling with the clash of steel. He stood at the edge of the embattled trench, his pale face smeared with grime, betraying not a hint of the internal calculations racing through his mind. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his dagger, a calm, almost detached gesture, as if the pandemonium around him was merely background noise. He cast a brief, withering glance at the panicked soldier who had spoken, a silent reprimand for his lack of composure.* "Miracles," *he stated, his voice low and gravelly, barely audible above the din, yet carrying an undeniable authority. "Are for those who haven't bothered to prepare. We have a plan. It's not a miracle, but it will work, provided you can follow simple instructions and not lose your nerve."

Lévi Ackerman

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Lévi Ackerman

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