The night stretched on in silence, the weight of their conversation fading into the cold air. Neither Thal nor Nyra said much after that, simply waiting, letting the quiet settle between them.
Nyra didn't move at first. Her gaze lingered on the distant horizon, where the stars began to dim and the first hints of light stretched across the sky. She hugged her knees to her chest, letting the silence speak. Thal's words still echoed faintly in her head not loud, not urgent, but weighty, like stones left in her hands. Part of her wished she could stay in this quiet space just a little longer, before the next step demanded something more of her.
The sky above remained vast, unchanged, the stars still distant and unmoving, watching over them like ancient gods. Then, slowly, the horizon began to glow. It started as a dull ember, a sliver of pale light creeping against the edges of the world, pushing back the darkness inch by inch. The night was finally ending.
Behind them, the others began to stir.
Tar was the first to wake. The massive Minotaur shifted slightly, the slow, deep sound of his breathing changing as he pulled himself from rest. A faint shiver moved through his shoulders as the cave's chill met his skin. His eyes blinked open, heavy with sleep but alert. He stretched, bones creaking faintly, his hulking form pressing against the rough stone wall. With a low huff, he pushed himself up, the motion deliberate, steady like someone returning to a world that hadn't earned his patience yet.
Nyra smirked slightly, glancing over her shoulder. "Morning, big guy."
Tar blinked once, still waking, then nodded toward her.
Then, not long after, Valen stirred slow at first, a furrowed brow twitching as if resisting the dawn itself. A sharp inhale broke the quiet, followed by a groan. "Ugh. No."
He twisted under his blanket, limbs tangled like he'd fought something in his dreams. Nyra turned just in time to catch him rolling onto his stomach, burying his face into the ground as if hoping to vanish entirely. His shoulders hunched, breath fogging faintly in the morning chill. Whatever dream he'd escaped from, he clearly wasn't eager to join the waking world.
"Go away," he grumbled, voice muffled.
Nyra raised a brow. "You're already awake."
"No, I'm not."
She kicked some dirt toward him.
Valen groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. "Why does the sun exist? Who allowed this?"
Thal grunted. "Get up."
Valen sighed loudly, dragging himself upright like it was the most difficult task in existence. His hair was a mess, his eyes still half lidded with exhaustion, but he was awake. Begrudgingly. "Fine," he muttered. "But just know that I hate everything right now."
Nyra chuckled, stretching her arms. "Good to know."
Then Luken didn't wake as dramatically as Valen, but he was no better off. His movements were slow, sluggish, his exhaustion weighing down on him as he blinked blearily at the morning light.
He sat up with a muted grunt, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A faint flicker of magic coiled at his fingertips. Without a word, he lifted a hand, muttered a tired incantation, and the illusion shimmered over him his Kruul eye and horn vanishing beneath the familiar veil. For a moment, the spell flickered slightly, responding to his weariness, before settling fully in place. He exhaled, then yawned, long and unbothered.
Nyra smirked, watching as he rubbed at his face, still half asleep as he stretched. "You even awake under there?"
Luken blinked at her, sluggish. "Barely."
Valen grumbled. "Good. Suffer with me."
Thal ignored them both, standing up fully, casting his gaze toward the path ahead. A breath escaped him not from fatigue, but something older. He stared at the road as though it recognized him, as though it waited. In that silence, there was no stoicism, only the quiet weight of a man still deciding whether to walk toward duty or bury himself in the past. The morning was here and so was the road south.
As he looked out, memory stirred just the echo of it. A small figure on a ridge, bright-eyed and relentless, shouting dreams into the wind. The child's voice had once rung with belief, the kind that could move mountains or die trying.
"I'll protect them all!" the voice had cried, tiny hands gripping a makeshift blade. "You'll see!"
Another voice had followed, higher-pitched and half-laughing. "You can't even swing it straight, hero."
Thal could still picture them the boy standing tall despite being barely shoulder-height, wrapped in a ragged cloak that he insisted made him look noble. And beside him, a smaller girl with a cracked horn and eyes nearly clouded by the dark fog of her vision. She'd teased him mercilessly, poking at his ideals, daring him to fall, but she never let him stand alone.
The boy would get frustrated, puffing up with pride, but she always brought him back to earth with a grin or a light shove. They were fire and stone, loud and quiet. Hope and sharp wit. Children, once.
Thal hadn't responded with scorn. He had only listened, watched. And for a moment, he had believed, too. That innocence could last. That fire didn't always burn out but the world had other plans. It always did.
The girl's voice had faded before the boy's. Not into silence, but into memory a scream in the distance, a body cradled in still arms, a promise broken in ash and frost. The boy had grown colder after that. Quieter. The fire still burned, but it turned inward, became something else.
He blinked the image away. "Let's move." with that, the silence gave way to motion.