The air above the fissure was sharp and cold, the night stretching endlessly overhead. The trio emerged from the underground chamber, the faint glow of Eryndor’s runes now muted beneath the pale light of the moon.
Kaelen led the way back toward their camp, his movements quick and deliberate, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Seris followed silently, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his blade.
Eryndor walked last, her thoughts heavy. The shard’s energy still pulsed within her, its power threading through the runes, a constant reminder of the burden she carried.
She wasn’t sure how long they walked before Kaelen broke the silence.
“What did you see down there?” he asked, his voice carefully measured.
Eryndor hesitated, her mind flashing
