The campfire crackled like it was afraid to be loud.
We didn't go back to the guilds. Nobody said it, but all of us knew the idea of stepping into a warm bed while the sky literally counted down to the world's next funeral felt… wrong.
So we set up camp just outside the dungeon, where the earth still trembled faintly from all the mana we'd burned through.
And silence swallowed us whole.
Zeref sat with his staff laid across his lap, fire magic dim and shaky at the tip like even flames weren't sure if they should flicker.
Kael was sharpening one dagger with the other, movements so slow and repetitive it felt like he needed the rhythm to stay sane.
Keiji stared into nothing, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was holding the whole world together just by gripping his fingers tight.
Luna wrapped her hands around her staff so hard her knuckles lost all color.
And me?
