The air in one of the chapel's chamber was still and heavy, the scent of old parchment and wax lingering.
The old war maps had been rolled up, the healing herbs and battle plans packed away, only a single candle lighting the center of the table, casting long shadows across the aged wood.
Zara rested in the chapel's infirmary, her curse marks still pulsing, her condition stable but fragile under the holy water's temporary relief.
Leon stood with his arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular, his linen shirt loose but clinging to his sweat-damp frame.
"We just stopped a Demon Lord. Saved the village. I thought… that was enough," he said, his voice low, a mix of exhaustion and resolve.
Terya leaned on a chair beside him, her grin lazy, her chainmail creaking faintly, her blonde hair catching the candlelight.
"It was enough. Until it wasn't," she said, her green eyes glinting with mischief but tempered by the weight of Zara's arrival.
