They had a plan.
Not perfect—but the best they could manage. Kessle had found them: the puppets, humans twisted into mindless weapons—Velmira's forgotten experiments. She'd amassed an army bred not to win, but to kill.
Their first step: draw the army out.
They knew Velmira's temper—how she cracked under pressure. The Resistance would lure her forces near her own castle, where Leirza would sneak in using his void form and plant bombs beneath the battlefield.
After crippling her numbers, Azriel would engage Velmira alone. He was their ace—and the only one whose presence might counter her warped senses.
Meanwhile, they'd mass-produced earplugs—enough for most. Not everyone could wear them, but they were crucial: blocking out Velmira's deadly frequencies and possibly shielding fighters from being manipulated through stolen senses.
The rest? It would come down to grit.
And blood.
