The sunrise over Veldoria was like a painting of gold and crimson, a stark contrast to the desolation they left behind in the Shadowlands. Eryndor awoke to the sound of crackling flames and the scent of wood smoke. She blinked against the sunlight filtering through a canopy of trees, her body aching with fatigue.
Kaelen’s voice broke through the haze. “Look who’s finally decided to rejoin the living.”
Eryndor turned her head to find him crouched by the fire, his familiar smirk softer than usual. Seris stood nearby, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, the ever-watchful knight.
“Where are we?” she croaked, her throat dry.
“Safe, for now,” Seris replied. “We crossed the Shadowlands last night and found this grove. We thought it best to rest before pushing forward.”
Eryndor sat
