The forest lingered in that hour when night refuses to die.
Shadows sprawled across the soil like spilled ink, breathing softly with the wind. The bonfire had collapsed into a pit of glowing veins... embers pulsing like the heartbeat of something ancient beneath the earth. Smoke drifted upward in thin ribbons, carrying the faint scent of burnt resin and blood.
"No..."
Dasha's voice trembled like a dying ember. "I can't... I can't release you. That would be a betrayal to the tribe, to our people. If I set you free, your replacement will be someone from the tribe... I can't let that happen. Why should I sacrifice my own people for a heart I never held close? You... you're just a sacrifice."
Her breaths grew uneven, torn between conviction and grief. Veythor stared at her in silence for a moment... then began to hum.
