The dawn was soft and colorless, pale clouds drifting across a sky too tired to weep. The forest beyond the Tree of Embers felt different now—quieter, deeper, shadows bending as though bowing to something unseen as the group moved forward along the narrow path.
Evin walked at the front, his sword strapped across his back, every step measured with the watchfulness of a man carrying the weight of more than just steel. His eyes flickered to the canopy, to the underbrush, to the spaces between tree trunks where the mist gathered like breath waiting to exhale.
Behind him, Mira moved with her shawl wrapped tightly, herbs tucked into the folds, beads clicking softly as she counted prayers under her breath, weaving tiny protection sigils in the air with each step.
Aeris walked in the middle, hand resting on the strap of his satchel, eyes distant, the ember inside him pulsing in new rhythms since the Tree, each beat like the echo of forgotten voices, each warmth tinged with something that felt almost like sorrow.
Liora walked close beside him, her small hand occasionally clutching the edge of his robe, her bell chiming softly. Her eyes were brighter, as though something in her had shifted, but shadows still clung to the corners, reminders of the things she heard that no one else could.
They moved like this for hours, the world around them rustling softly, the forest alive with whispers they could not fully understand.
A Moment of Quiet
At midday, they found a stream again, its waters clearer here, sunlight speckling across smooth stones. Evin checked the area, scanning the trees before giving a short nod.
"We'll rest here."
Mira unpacked their simple meal, laying out dried bread, soft cheese, a small jar of honey they had traded for days earlier. Liora sat by the water, letting it run over her fingers, humming softly under her breath.
Aeris sat on a rock, pulling out his journal, the leather warm from being pressed against his chest. He paused before writing, eyes distant, the ember's warmth mingling with the gentle chill of the forest breeze.
Evin returned from scouting and sat near Mira, his sword resting across his knees as he cleaned the blade with slow, practiced care.
"Did you know," Evin began, his voice quieter than usual, "that I once thought about leaving all of this? Before the Blight. Before I ever met any of you."
Mira looked up from her herbs, raising an eyebrow. "You? The steadfast knight wanting to run?"
A faint smile touched Evin's lips. "There was a village near the coast. Peaceful place, good soil, decent fishing. I thought maybe I'd settle there, find something simpler." His fingers paused on the blade. "But I couldn't. Even before the Blight came, the world needed people to stand guard at the edges."
Mira's expression softened, the lines of exhaustion around her eyes easing. "It still does."
Evin looked toward Aeris and Liora, the smallest of smiles touching his tired features. "I'm glad I didn't leave."
Tension in the Air
As dusk approached, the air grew heavy, the silence of the forest shifting, pressing in around them.
Liora paused in her humming, her head tilting as though listening to something distant. Aeris glanced toward her, the ember inside him pulsing once in quiet warning.
"What is it?" Aeris asked softly.
Liora's storm-grey eyes blinked, focusing. "They're watching."
Evin was on his feet in a heartbeat, sword sliding silently from its sheath as he scanned the trees. Mira stood as well, her hands glowing faintly as she whispered protective spells.
The shadows between the trees seemed to move, twisting in slow spirals. For a moment, Aeris thought he saw a figure—a tall shape, draped in tattered dark robes, eyes glowing with the sickly green of the Blight.
Then it was gone.
Nightfall and Firelight
They built a small fire as darkness fell, the flames dancing softly, sending shadows flickering across their faces.
Evin sat near the edge of the firelight, his blade laid across his knees, sharpening it with slow, careful strokes. His eyes flickered toward the darkness beyond, every sound in the forest pulling his attention.
Aeris sat beside the fire, journal open, pen scratching softly as he wrote down thoughts he could not yet voice aloud. Each word felt like a small promise to himself and the others—an anchor against the darkness pressing on the edges of the ember's warmth.
Mira worked near the firelight, mixing herbs into small vials, her humming joining the crackle of the flames.
Liora curled up close to Aeris, resting her head against his arm, her bell chiming softly as she drifted in and out of sleep.
A Small Moment of Trust
Later, when the fire burned lower, Evin set his sword aside and moved closer to Mira. The two sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the soft breathing of Liora asleep.
"I used to hate mages," Evin said suddenly, his voice quiet.
Mira looked at him, her eyes unreadable in the firelight. "And now?"
Evin looked toward Aeris, who was still writing in his journal, the ember's glow reflecting faintly in his tired eyes.
"Now I know better," Evin said.
Mira smiled softly, looking toward Aeris as well. "Good."
Dreamscapes and Whispers
That night, Aeris's dreams were filled with whispers, fragments of voices he could not understand, images of the Tree of Embers burning softly in the dark, its branches reaching toward him.
He saw Liora standing beneath it, her bell ringing softly, her eyes filled with tears.
He saw Mira, her hands covered in blood and light, whispering prayers that tasted like iron and rosemary.
He saw Evin standing alone against the darkness, his blade a thin line of silver light.
And in the center of it all, the ember pulsed, a small, fragile flame, flickering softly, refusing to go out.
Dawn Comes Again
When dawn came, it brought a thin mist and the sound of birdsong, a fragile promise that the world was still alive.
Aeris closed his journal, tucking it back into his satchel. He looked toward Evin, Mira, and Liora, each of them rising to greet the new day in their own way.
They would keep moving forward.
They would keep fighting.
They would keep the ember burning, even if it was just a small, fragile light in the darkness.