Elaric, his dark cloak pulled tight against the biting wind, swiftly navigated the maze-like alleys of Aeloria, the heart of the city. Lanterns hung from every doorpost, their soft glow casting long, dancing shadows upon the cobbled streets.

Reaching the towering gates of the War Council's citadel, Elaric presented his insignia, a silver phoenix emblem, to the guards. They nodded in recognition and let him pass. As the gates opened, the grandeur of the citadel unfolded: its soaring towers, its imposing battlements, and its echoing hallways, all spoke of power and legacy.

Finding the chamber of his superior, Commander Lyrion, he knocked thrice and entered.

Lyrion, an imposing figure even seated, looked up from his paperwork, his silver hair catching the light. "Elaric, you're back earlier than expected. What news do you bring?"

Drawing a deep breath, Elaric began recounting his experiences, his voice unwavering despite the incredulity of his tale. When he spoke of Orion's resurrection, Lyrion's skeptical eyebrow shot up.

"Orion? You speak of legends, Elaric. Tales mothers tell their children. He is a myth, nothing more," Lyrion stated dismissively.

Elaric, expecting such a reaction, pressed on, "I saw him, Commander. With my own eyes. It may be in a new form, but the aura, the unmistakable presence—it was him."

Lyrion, his features thoughtful, leaned back. "Even if this were true, why should we fear a resurrected legend?"

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"It's not just Orion, sir," Elaric said gravely. "It's the cultists. Their dark rituals, their unchecked ambitions. They are a powder keg, and Orion could be the spark."

Lyrion frowned, considering. "We've known of the cultists. Their influence has been growing, yes, but to invoke Orion... That's a bold move, even for them."

"They seek power, Commander, and in their minds, Orion is the epitome of it. With him on their side, there's no telling what they might attempt."

For a moment, the room was thick with silence, the weight of decisions yet to be made pressing down on both men.

Finally, Lyrion sighed. "Let's say you're right. What do you propose?"

"We've gathered enough intelligence on their strongholds and operations. A swift, decisive strike could cripple their network, perhaps even capture their leaders. Including," Elaric added with emphasis, "Orion."

Lyrion's gaze sharpened. "You suggest open confrontation?"

"With respect, sir," Elaric countered, "we've spent too long in the shadows, gathering intelligence, waiting for the right moment. If Orion truly has returned, that moment is now."

Lyrion stared at the massive map sprawled across his desk, dotted with markers representing the cult's known locations. "It's a gamble, Elaric."

"But it's one we must take," Elaric pressed. "Before the cultists grow even stronger."

The Commander drew a deep breath, his resolve clear. "Very well. Rally the captains. We'll begin preparations. We strike at dawn."

Elaric nodded, relief flooding him. "Thank you, Commander. We'll put an end to this."

As Elaric left the chamber, Lyrion's gaze remained fixed on the map, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. He didn't fear the cultists. But Orion? A being of legend stepping into reality? The world was shifting beneath their feet, and in the coming days, the city of Aeloria would be tested like never before.