"Whispers in the Flame"
In the days following the battle, an eerie stillness cloaked the camp—not peaceful, but thick and unsettling, like a fog rolling in with secrets. Aelir stood at the camp's edge, eyes on the horizon, though his thoughts wandered. Since the battle, his dreams had turned grim—visions not his own, haunted by failure, betrayal, and the image of Lira abandoning him.
He hadn’t told anyone.
Not even Lira.
And Lira, too, sensed the shift. Though the people still followed her, a quiet unease settled in her heart. She began to question Aelir’s hesitations, his heavy silences, the guarded look in his eyes. Was he hiding something?
In truth, they both were.
The liveliness of the camp faded. Laughter died out. Training slowed. In its place came murmurs—low, strange talk: “I
