Khael's eyes remained on Arden alive, weak, but breathing.
He exhaled softly, the tension leaving his body like mist dissolving into air.
"No, Father," he whispered. "We did."
The wind shifted, no longer howling. It sighed, low, soft, and full of release.
A sound not of grief… but of peace.
Around them, the camp began to stir.
The soldiers who moments ago hovered at the edge of despair now stared in silent awe. Their comrades the ones thought lost were breathing again. Faint, fragile, but unmistakably alive.
Then, as the realization spread, the silence broke.
"He did it…" one soldier murmured, voice trembling.
Another followed, louder this time. "He actually did it!"
Soon, the murmurs became a ripple, echoing across the camp like the return of life itself.
But then came the question soft, almost reverent:
"How did you do it?"
Another voice answered from behind them, quiet but sharp.
"No… not how he did it. How did he know to do it?"
