The room was quiet in a way that felt anything but peaceful. The silence hung heavily, clinging to the walls as if it had weight.
The Adventurer Inn used to be alive with noise, laughter echoing down hallways, boots thudding against wooden floors, and arguments erupting over ale and missions.
But now, it's silent and full of oppressive atmosphere, thick with tension.
In one particular chamber tucked away on the upper floor, that familiar vibrancy felt distant. It was replaced by the soft rustle of fabric, the faint scent of medicinal herbs, and the quiet breaths of those who had survived something they were still trying to comprehend.
Moonlight seeped through the narrow window, pale and cold, casting long shadows across the bed where Calista lay propped against layered pillows.
Her face had lost much of its usual sharpness; color drained from her skin and her lips parted slightly as she drew slow, careful breaths, the effort visible in the rise and fall of her chest.
