The guardian beast stood like a silent statue at the edge of the village, its metallic wings catching the orange gleam of the setting sun. The villagers had started calling it Sentinel. Some left food near its feet. One child gave it a flower crown, which it wore unironically.
Zorawar stayed by the fire long after the children went to sleep. Kairav sharpened a blade nearby, while Vyuk doodled exaggerated battle scenes in his field log, labeling one stick figure Zorawar the Broody and another Vyuk the Fabulous.
"You should rest," Kairav said without looking up.
Zorawar kept his gaze on the fire. "I don't feel tired."
Vyuk chimed in. "That's because you're running on a mix of guilt, responsibility, and raw dramatic energy. Honestly, impressive."
Zorawar threw a twig at him. Missed.
"You ever think maybe you care too much?" Vyuk asked, more seriously this time. "About being perfect, I mean."
Zorawar exhaled. "It's not about being perfect. It's about not messing up again."
