In the days that followed, the group found themselves able to rest and recover. Sorin, always the optimist, had somehow found a group of local children eager to learn basic magic. He spent his days teaching them simple spells, their laughter filling the air as they chased each other with tiny sparks of light.

Lyra, on the other hand, had gotten herself into a playful competition with the local hunters, showing off her skills with a bow. She was competitive, but for once, it wasn’t life or death—it was fun.

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Even Leon found himself getting pulled into the light-hearted moments. One afternoon, Sorin and Lyra convinced him to join them in a game the children had created. It was a mix of swordplay and magic, where they had to chase enchanted stones through the forest.

Leon hadn’t laughed in what felt like forever, but in that moment, as Sorin tripped over his own feet and Lyra teased him mercilessly, something inside him softened. It was as if, for a brief moment, they were just people again—not rebels, not soldiers, just friends trying to make the most of their fleeting peace.