The ache in his chest eased slightly. Not healed, but steadied. He let the warmth linger, then exhaled, sending her back to sleep. She receded willingly, silent once more, leaving only her echo.
The humans had begun chanting as they worked. Not songs, not hymns, just guttural syllables, names, fragments of words that gave rhythm to the labor. The sound throbbed through the cavern walls like a pulse, as if the stone itself now bore witness.
Nysha's shadows twitched at the cadence. Her voice was low, bitter. "They think you'll lead them to a dawn they'll never see."
Lindarion's eyes stayed on the flames. "Then I'll make sure they see it anyway."
"Even if it kills you?"
His hand tightened on the sword. "Especially if it kills me."
She stared at him, crimson eyes burning, but said nothing more. Shadows curled tighter around her, silent wings refusing to take flight.
