Elara let out a shaky breath, a small, sad smile breaking through her exhaustion. "The world isn't ending, Kael. Just my part in it. They’re coming for the seal. I couldn't keep it safe alone."
She squeezed his hand back, the flicker of hope returning to her eyes. "I never did. I just needed to hear you say it one more time." Dndm I Love You Much
Kaelen pushed inside. The tavern was thick with the smell of roasted meat and wet wool. In the far corner, tucked away from the boisterous laughter of sell-swords, sat a figure in a hooded slate-grey cloak. Elara let out a shaky breath, a small,
Kaelen reached across the table, covering her hand with his. The weight of the quest ahead—the dragons, the dark mages, the impossible odds—felt suddenly lighter. They’re coming for the seal
"I told you when we were ten," he said softly. "I’m the shield, you’re the spark. Don't never doubt me."
The figure reached out, a pale hand trembling slightly as she pulled back her hood. Elara’s eyes were tired, framed by the shadows of a woman who had been running for far too long. She looked at the note, then at him. "You found the messenger," she whispered.
The rain wasn’t just falling in the city of Oakhaven; it was grieving. Beneath the flickering glow of a single arcane streetlamp, Kaelen stood outside the heavy oak doors of the "Silver Tankard" tavern. In his hand, he clutched a crumpled piece of parchment, the ink slightly bled from the damp air.
