Morning came gray and cold. Velira emerged from the tent as if she had slept in a palace, her cloak immaculate, her hair perfectly arranged.
"Good morning," she greeted, as though she were part of the party. "I trust you all slept well?"
Seralyn shot her a glare. "Get to the point."
Velira ignored her again and approached Kaelen, who stood by the dying embers of the fire. "I wanted you to hear me out before you decide. You may think you're fighting for something noble, but the truth is you're only delaying the inevitable."
Kaelen's tone was even. "You underestimate us."
"No," Velira said with a faint smile. "I'm telling you the truth. Vorath will win. He always wins. And when he does, those who stood against him will have no place in the world he builds."
Lyra's voice was light, almost teasing. "And you want Kaelen to be spared from that fate?"
Velira's eyes softened slightly, though there was steel beneath. "I want him to stand where he belongs — beside strength, not against it." She turned her gaze on Lyra. "And you… I think you'd understand the value of survival."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Survival isn't the same as loyalty."
Velira chuckled softly. "Perhaps. But they're often mistaken for the same thing."
Kaelen's voice sharpened. "If this is the part where you tell me to kneel, you're wasting your time."
Velira stepped closer, her voice lowering. "Not kneel. Just… surrender. Walk willingly into the future, instead of being dragged."
"Not happening."
Velira studied him for a long moment, then smiled again, slow and knowing. "Very well. But remember this — Vorath has victory in chains."
The words hung in the air, heavy and strange.
Without waiting for a reply, Velira stepped back, turned, and began walking away from the camp.
Lyra's expression was unreadable as she watched her go. "That's… ominous."
Kaelen didn't answer. He just stared after the Crimson Widow, the weight of her words settling like frost in his chest.
(Image)