The scent of burning sage and crushed herbs still lingered in the air long after Virelith had been banished. The ancient runes etched into the mountainside glowed faintly, a testament to the battle they had won—but only barely. A heavy silence draped over the group like a burial shroud as they made their way back toward camp, each rider lost in their thoughts.
Evelyn swayed slightly in her saddle, her exhaustion weighing heavier than her armor. Damien rode beside her, eyes scanning her pale face, every so often reaching out to steady her when her shoulders sagged too much.
“You need to rest,” he said softly.
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
She gave him a weak smile, but didn’t argue further. The truth was, the battle had taken more from her than she was willing to admit. Ever
