"More than you think," Osalf said, stepping closer. "The King doesn't just want to win. He wants to make an example out of you. That's why he gave you three days. Not because he's afraid, but because he's setting the stage. And you're the star of his little performance."
Ty's chest burned with frustration, his hands itching to swing at something—anything. "You think I don't know that? You think I'm just going to roll over and let him win?"
"I don't know what you'll do," Osalf admitted, his tone softening slightly. "But I know what happens if you don't decide soon. That's what scares me."
The two stood in tense silence for a moment, the distant sound of the night's breeze their only companion. Finally, Osalf sighed and turned back toward the hideout.
"Get some rest," he said over his shoulder. "If the King's coming, we'll need you at your best. Whether you like it or not."
Left alone again, Ty exhaled slowly. He looked up at the stars one more time before heading back inside.
