The tent was dimly lit by a single crystal lamp, its glow soft and uneven, casting shifting shadows along the canvas walls. The night outside was eerily still — no rustling leaves, no chorus of vibrant forest life. The silence pressed heavily from all directions, a reminder of the once-living sanctuary that now lay dead and grey beyond the tent flaps. The faint scent of ash still lingered in the air, mixing with exhaustion and grief.
Inside, Luca, Vincent, Sylthara, and Elowen stood together in a small circle. Their faces were lit enough to show the weight each of them carried, yet darkness clung stubbornly to the corners of the room, mirroring the uncertainty that wrapped itself around every thought.
The tension held like a breath too long. Then Elowen exhaled shakily — the first to break the silence.
"To be honest…" Her voice wavered, brittle and tired. "I am not even sure what to do now."
