The forest slept beneath a silver sky. The moon hung low and watchful, its light pouring through the tangled branches like spilled water. Crickets whispered in the tall grass; the wind moved softly, carrying the scent of ash and pine.
Inside the small hut built of rough stone and animal hide, Liora slept with her back against the wall, her breath shallow but calm. Elira lay curled beside her, a thin blanket wrapped around her small body, her hand loosely gripping the hem of Liora's tunic as if afraid she might vanish in the night.
For the first time in weeks, there was peace.
No screams, no fire, no chains biting into her skin. Only the deep, rhythmic breath of the child beside her and the gentle hum of the forest outside.
Liora's eyes flickered beneath her lids, caught between dream and wakefulness. She dreamed of nothing, no battles, no blood, only quiet wind and the faint memory of freedom.
Then came a knock.
Low, firm, deliberate.
