The road to Lusimba was long and uneven. Each jolt of the wagon made Khisa's breathing hitch, so they moved carefully, never too far, never too fast. Ole Samoei ordered frequent stops, and at each camp, the Shadow Guard built their fires in a ring around Khisa's tent, keeping vigil even in silence.
That night, the jungle air was cool. The sky above was velvet-black, spattered with stars. The fire cracked softly, throwing golden light across the faces of the gathered soldiers. Their armor had dulled with dust and sweat, but their spirits were still bright. They had survived, barely and for now, that was enough.
Taban poked at the fire with a stick, sparks dancing into the dark. "I still can't believe we made it out of that fortress alive," he said with a shaky laugh. "Those restores were tough, I swear one of them grazed my ear."
Sarai smirked faintly. "You're lucky he didn't take the whole head. You weren't exactly subtle out there."
