The campfire flickered against the deepening night as the group settled into uneasy silence. The air was thick with unspoken thoughts, each companion wrestling with their own fears and uncertainties.
Mira broke the silence first, her voice light but edged with sarcasm. "So, Lior, you're the 'chosen one' with this fancy Celestial Code, huh? Guess that means we're all just your backup dancers."
A few tense glances flicked toward her. Lior met her gaze steadily. "I don't see us as backup dancers. We all have fragments to offer. Without you, I'm nothing."
Kaelen shifted, finally speaking in his quiet, measured tone. "The Code's power is unpredictable. We need more than words. Actions will build trust."
Sylvi nodded, her eyes soft but serious. "I'm willing to try—if it means saving what's left of the world."
Elyra's gaze swept the group, her voice firm but encouraging. "We all carry scars. The corruption doesn't just infect the isles; it can fracture us, too. Our strength depends on how well we hold together."
Lior swallowed the lump in his throat. The burden of the Code wasn't just about magic or power—it was about connecting broken souls, about healing wounds they barely understood.
As the fire crackled, the companions edged closer, sharing small stories and tentative laughter. Fragile as it was, a thread of unity began to weave between them.
But deep beneath the surface, doubt lingered. How long before fear and mistrust tore those threads apart?
For now, they had to believe in each other—and in the shards of hope they carried.