The air between them was still thick, clinging to the skin like smoke after a fire. Eron sat cross-legged on the ground, his fists pressing into the dirt hard enough to make his knuckles ache. He didn't even notice. His eyes were fixed on the old man leaning against a warped cane a few steps away.
For minutes—maybe longer—they hadn't spoken. The silence wasn't exactly hostile anymore, but it was far from peaceful. It was the kind of silence where every unspoken word pressed against the back of your teeth, just waiting to spill out.
Finally, the old man broke it. His voice was quiet, almost like he was talking to himself."I never thought I'd have to explain all this to anyone," he said. "People came, they lived, they… disappeared. And the land swallowed the rest."
Eron's jaw flexed. "You brought them here." His voice was calmer than before, but the accusation was still there—sharp, bitter.
