The group had settled into an easy rhythm by the stream, the harsh memory of the Wasteland fading with each passing hour. The water murmured softly over smooth stones, and the breeze carried the scent of grass and damp earth. They had meant to rest for only a few hours—but the peace was too rare to waste.
Adam leaned back on his elbows, his crimson eyes fixed on the sky. The grey had given way to deep orange and pink, the sun sinking toward the horizon. He let out a slow breath.
"I didn't expect us to rest this long."
Isolde, seated a few paces away with her knees drawn up, glanced at him. Her voice was quiet, but carried a note of rare ease.
"It's fine. After everything we've been through, we deserve it. The Wasteland was... exhausting."
Adam's gaze drifted to Azrynn, who was sitting cross-legged near the water's edge, her eyes closed, her face tilted toward the fading light. She looked almost peaceful, the tension that usually clung to her frame finally loosened.
