The fact that Lilian didn't waste time at all surprised them. Yet at this point, Myles and the others had already grown used to shocking turns like this.
After everything they had faced, nothing truly startled them anymore.
That night, they decided to rest inside the damaged house. It offered no comfort. Dust covered the floor. The air smelled stale. Cracks ran along the walls.
They lay on the cold ground or slumped across the worn sofa without complaint. Exhaustion after training swallowed them quickly, and one by one they drifted into sleep.
All except Myles.
He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Faint shadows stretched across the cracked surface above him.
His mind refused to quiet down. His thoughts circled endlessly about the battle, about the losses, and about the weight pressing on his chest.
His body felt tired, but his heart remained restless.
Soft footsteps approached him.
