The sun had long since dipped behind the ridge, but the camp still glowed with its afterlight. The air shimmered faintly—dust and gold lingering in the wake of the day's battle.
I sat near the fire, my body humming with a quiet ache that wasn't pain so much as memory. Every movement replayed behind my eyes: Serah's strike, the dust, the moment of stillness before victory.
Now, there was only the steady crackle of flame and the sound of the camp settling. Somewhere beyond the outer circle, laughter rose and faded.
Luka approached first, balancing two wooden cups. "You didn't tell me you were going to throw her that hard."
I accepted a cup, smirking. "If I'd warned you, you'd have tried to stop me."
He chuckled. "Fair. Still, it was impressive. Even Nox didn't move for a while after that."
"Was he worried?" I asked, feigning innocence.
Ren appeared from the shadows before Luka could answer. "Worried?" he said quietly. "No. Proud, maybe. But he hid it well."
Ren always spoke like that—measured, soft, but sharp beneath. I found comfort in his calm.
"Good," I said. "He'll need to hide it better if we're going to survive the rest of them."
The three of us fell into an easy silence. The air smelled of ash and earth, and the stars above were impossibly bright. I could almost forget the whispers waiting for morning.
When Nox finally appeared, the flames leaned toward him as if even fire wanted his attention. He didn't speak right away, just stood there, arms folded, watching me.
I raised a brow. "You're staring."
"Making sure you're still breathing," he said dryly.
"Disappointed?"
He smiled faintly. "Relieved. Though you've managed to turn half the council into your personal debate club."
"I like keeping them busy," I said, stretching lazily. "Idle minds become scheming ones."
Luka laughed under his breath, while Ren simply shook his head.
Nox moved closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "You could've lost today."
"I didn't."
"But you could've," he said again, eyes narrowing slightly. "And then what?"
I held his gaze, unflinching. "Then I'd have found another way. I always do."
The corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a smile. "You're infuriating."
"I've been told it's one of my charms."
He looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Instead, he turned to leave—then paused. "Get some rest, Maise. Tomorrow will be worse."
"Good," I said, raising my cup to him. "I'm better when they underestimate me."
After he disappeared into the dark, Luka gave a quiet whistle. "You do realize the whole camp saw that, right? The way he looks at you?"
I sipped from the cup, tasting something sweet and earthy. "Let them see. It keeps the jealous ones guessing."
Ren's expression softened. "You've changed, Maise. Since the first day."
"Maybe," I said, looking into the fire. "Or maybe I just stopped pretending to be less than I am."
The flames danced higher, painting gold across my skin. Somewhere in the distance, the drums began again—slow, deep, steady. The heartbeat of the pride.
And I sat there listening, calm in the glow, knowing that peace like this never lasted long.