It was morning, and Drake had left Tessa's home as soon as he could. He told her he was heading back home, but in truth, he had a completely different plan in mind.
During the Crater Hunt, he had lost his sword — a blade he despised himself for losing, as it had been a gift from his elder brother. That weapon held not just steel and craftsmanship, but memory and sentiment.
If there was any possible way to return to the Crater, to search through every nook and cranny for that blade, he would take it without hesitation. But deep down, he knew it was gone — swallowed by the chaos of that battlefield. There was no use imagining other outcomes or wishing for alternate perspectives. The past had already taken its toll.
