The fires had burned low, casting flickering shadows over the Hollowheart Enclave's battered walls. Inside, the wounded were being tended with whatever supplies remained.
Artemis sat on a cracked stone bench, her head bowed as Elara carefully cleaned a long gash on her arm. The room was heavy with the scent of herbs and healing salves, a stark contrast to the battlefield's acrid smoke.
"I hate seeing you like this," Elara murmured, brushing stray hair from Artemis's face.
Artemis gave a weak laugh. "You should see me at my worst."
Elara's smile faltered, her fingers lingering on Artemis's skin. "We all are scared. But we fight anyway."
Outside, Lyra and a few others gathered around a makeshift table, studying maps and jotting notes in dim candlelight. Their faces were etched with resolve.
"We can't wait for the Rift to open again," Lyra said, tapping a mark on the map. "We need to disrupt their supply lines—cut off the Hunters' reinforcements."
Nova appeared at the doorway, eyes sharp, her expression unreadable.
"I'll lead the strike team," she said, voice steady but low.
Artemis looked up, surprised but not opposed. "We need every advantage."
Nova met her gaze. "I'm not done yet. And neither are they."
Elara squeezed Artemis's hand. "Whatever comes next, we face it together."
Artemis's heart swelled with gratitude. The battle outside was brutal, but the war within—of trust, hope, and unity—was just as fierce.
The group's quiet determination filled the room like a pulse. Tomorrow would bring more danger. But tonight, there was something else.
A fragile, powerful bond—one that could just be their greatest weapon.