Weeks passed after Garrett’s death, and though the pain still lingered in Leon’s heart, the group had to keep moving. The rebellion had gained ground in the outskirts, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they found themselves in a small town untouched by war. It was nestled deep within the mountains, a place where the wind carried the scent of pine trees and the sound of rushing water filled the air.

The townspeople welcomed them cautiously, but soon recognized the weariness in their eyes. They weren’t just soldiers—they were people, tired of fighting, tired of losing.

Leon stood by the river one evening, watching the water rush past, the weight of his grief still heavy on his shoulders. Elena approached him, her steps quiet, though he had long since learned to recognize her presence without even turning around.

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"You should rest," she said gently. "Everyone is worried about you."

"I’m fine," Leon muttered, though they both knew it wasn’t true.

Elena sighed, stepping beside him. "It’s okay to not be fine, you know. Garrett wouldn’t want you to carry this alone."

He glanced at her, noticing how tired she looked too. They were all carrying the weight of the battles behind them, and the ones yet to come. But here, in this peaceful town, they had a rare chance to breathe.

"We’ll never be able to repay him," Leon said, his voice low. "He gave everything for us."

"Then let’s honor him by living," Elena replied, her hand lightly brushing his. "By taking time to heal."

For the first time in days, Leon smiled faintly. It was a small step, but maybe she was right.