By the time Arden stepped out from the cave's deeper chamber, the air outside was thick with smoke and silence. The fight had ended, though the tension still hung like a veil.
Zephyra paced near the entrance, her body crackling faintly with lingering heat. Nearby, Nyra stood over one of the creed members, who was bloodied, barely conscious, but still breathing.
She struck him again, and again, and again, each blow coming harder than the last, her hands coated in ice that cracked on contact.
Arden didn't speak at first. He just watched.
Nyra's breathing was uneven, her fists shaking. She wasn't fighting anymore. She was remembering.
He stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"That's enough."
She froze at his voice. Her hands dropped, trembling. She didn't look back, but she stepped aside slowly and said nothing.
Arden crouched beside the man, his tone low and calm, like a whisper that still somehow demanded attention.
