Nearly One Million Under Evacuation Order as Krauanagaz Braces for Potentially Devastating Zuhlgani Attack
Yayyára, Krauanagaz— The streets of Krauanagaz are no longer filled with the usual bustling crowds and vibrant markets that define its cities and towns. Instead, a heavy sense of tension and uncertainty hangs over the nation, particularly in the border regions where nearly one million people, including both citizens and refugees, are being evacuated. As fears of a Zuhlgani attack grow, the mood across Krauanagaz has shifted dramatically— from one of defiance and resolve to one marked by anxiety, apprehension, and a grim readiness for the worst.
In Yayyára, the capital, residents speak in hushed tones and avoid public gatherings as rumors of impending military action swirl. Government buildings are fortified, and key infrastructure points, such as bridges and power plants, are under heavy guard. Military convoys rumble through the streets, moving towards the border regions, where tensions are at their highest. Soldiers in full combat gear patrol busy intersections, their expressions as grim as the mood around them.
Businesses in the capital and other major cities have shuttered, with only a few essential services remaining open. Schools are closed, and parks are eerily empty. Supermarkets and pharmacies have seen a rush of people stocking up on supplies, with many shelves stripped bare as families prepare for a potential conflict that could disrupt daily life for weeks, if not longer.
“There’s a tension you can feel in the air. Everyone is on edge, waiting for something to happen,” says Lujan Saadi, a resident of Yayyára. “You see it in the way people look at each other on the streets. It’s like everyone is holding their breath.”
For the nearly 500,000 refugees who had fled conflict elsewhere in the region and found themselves in Krauanagaz’s border camps, the sudden evacuation order is a harsh reminder of the volatility that defines their lives. Many of these displaced persons, already traumatized by previous conflicts, are now being moved deeper into the country for safety. Temporary shelters, schools, and community centers in cities farther from the border have been repurposed to accommodate the influx of evacuees.
“There is no peace for us,” says Layla Hassan, a refugee from Mitallduk who is now being moved for the third time. “Every time we think we are safe, the war finds us again. I don’t know where they will take us next or if we will ever have a place to call home again.”
The Krauanagazan government has not minced words in describing the gravity of the situation. In a rare public address this morning, Krauanagaz’s defense secretary, Haratal N’gevayya, announced the activation of emergency protocols and a nationwide mobilization of reserve forces. Citizens have been urged to remain vigilant and to report any suspicious activity to authorities.
“We are facing a very real threat to our sovereignty and our way of life,” N’gevayya declared. “Krauanagaz will stand firm, but we must also prepare for what is to come.”
Across the nation, recruitment centers have been flooded with young men and women volunteering for reserve duty, driven by a mixture of patriotism, fear, and a sense of duty. The government has also stepped up efforts to train and equip civilian militias, particularly in rural and border areas where the risk of infiltration or skirmishes is highest.
In towns closer to the Mitalldukish border, such as Suvarkana and Rulgaz, the atmosphere is even more tense. While many have already evacuated, those who remain are hunkered down, preparing for the worst. The roads leading out of these towns are choked with vehicles packed with belongings, as families flee towards safer areas or attempt to cross into neighboring countries. There is an eerie silence, broken only by the sounds of military aircraft overhead and the rumble of armored vehicles moving toward the front lines.
In these border towns, a sense of dread prevails. Local militias, alongside Krauanagazan military units, have been conducting drills and preparing defenses. Volunteers fill sandbags, fortify checkpoints, and distribute leaflets on emergency procedures. The sense of a looming showdown with Zuhlgani forces is palpable.
“We are ready to defend our homes,” says Kasim Drava, a local militia member in Suvarkana. “But we know what’s coming. The waiting is the worst part—it feels like the calm before a terrible storm.”
The international community has watched the situation in Southern Cordilia with growing alarm. Neighboring nations have called for restraint, and global powers have offered to mediate, but the prospects for peace appear slim. With Emerald’s declaration of war, the Krauanagazan government at “defense condition two” and Zuhlgani forces rapidly mobilizing along the border, the potential for a devastating conflict looms larger than ever.
Meanwhile, aid organizations are scrambling to set up news camps deeper inside Krauanagaz and provide food, water, and medical supplies to evacuees and those displaced by the escalating tensions. Possible humanitarian corridors are being negotiated, though there are fears they could be jeopardized by rapid developments on the ground.
As the hours tick by, the world watches Southern Cordilia closely, bracing for what could be the most significant conflict in the region in decades. In the streets, the homes, and the refugee camps of Krauanagaz, there is a grim understanding that the coming days will be decisive.
For now, the sense of uncertainty is pervasive, and the question on everyone’s mind is: what happens next?