Crimson & Light

The clearing felt almost otherworldly. The trees glowed faintly in hues of soft blue and green, casting shimmering patterns onto the forest floor. The air hummed with a strange, calming magic, like the world itself was taking a deep breath after the chaos of the day.

"This darn rope won't tie! It's slippin' like a wet fish!" Thorne exclaimed, holding up a mess of tangled ropes and fabric that was supposed to resemble a tent. His frustration made Jane burst into a fit of giggles as she tried to help him.

Changra couldn't help but smile as he watched. Maybe this isn't so bad. Even Thorne's weird grammar is kinda endearing, he thought to himself. Despite everything—the bridge, the fight, the nagging questions about why he was even here—moments like this made him feel oddly at ease.

Berethia, of course, had no such struggles. With a wave of her hand, her tent stood perfectly erect, the ropes snapping into place as if saluting her command. She turned to Changra and smiled warmly, almost too warmly. Her expression was one of effortless confidence, as if she was silently saying, See how easy it is?

That smile stirred something uncomfortable in Changra. He couldn't put his finger on it, but every time she did something flawlessly, it made him feel… off. Like he was falling behind in a race he didn't even know he was running. Why do I feel this way? he wondered, quickly shaking the thought away as he turned to help Jane with her tent.

Jane, crouched on the ground and fighting with a particularly stubborn pole, looked up at Changra with a sheepish grin. "It's harder than it looks, okay?"

"Don't worry, I've got this," Changra said, kneeling down beside her. As they worked together, their hands occasionally brushed, and Jane would pull back quickly, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Hey, you two need help?" Thorne called out from across the clearing, holding up his now partially collapsed tent like it was some sort of victory flag.

"We're good, Thorne," Changra replied with a laugh, glancing at Jane. "Better than that, at least."

"I heard that!" Thorne yelled, waving a fist in mock anger before turning his attention back to his tent. "Stupid rope, ain't worth a darn..."

Changra chuckled as he tightened the last knot on Jane's tent. He glanced over his shoulder at Berethia, who was standing off to the side, watching them. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker in her eyes—something Changra couldn't quite decipher. What's with her? he thought, but before he could dwell on it, Jane clapped her hands together.

"Done! Thanks, Changra," she said with a bright smile.

"No problem," Changra replied, returning her smile. At least someone appreciates me, he thought, sneaking another glance at Berethia. She had already turned away, busying herself with something else, but that flicker in her eyes lingered in his mind like a faint echo.

The fire crackled warmly, its glow flickering across the group's faces. Berethia had lit it with a quick snap of her fingers, the flames springing to life as if eager to obey her command. Changra watched her with a mix of admiration and annoyance. Why does she make everything look so easy? he wondered, his fingers unconsciously brushing against the small scar on his hand from earlier failed attempts at tying knots.

Thorne rummaged through a small pack, pulling out food and grinning like he had just discovered buried treasure. "Alright, folks, tonight's feast is bread, dried meat, and these weird berries Jane found in the woods. Don't ask me if they're safe—I ain't tried 'em yet."

Changra couldn't help but laugh as Jane shot Thorne a look. "They're edible! I checked the foraging guide."

"Sure hope that guide wasn't lyin', 'cause I ain't got time for stomach curses," Thorne said, handing the berries around.

Dinner was simple but oddly satisfying. The bread was a bit stale, the meat tough, but the berries were surprisingly sweet, leaving an unusual tang on Changra's tongue. He chewed thoughtfully, trying to savor it, when Thorne announced proudly, "Tastes better than my gran's swamp stew, that's for sure!"

Aria, who had been nibbling on a piece of bread, nearly choked. "Swamp stew? I don't even want to imagine what that is."

"Y'ain't lived 'til you've tried it," Thorne replied with a grin, earning a mock gag from Aria, which sent Jane into a fit of giggles.

Berethia laughed lightly at the exchange, her voice soft and melodic, but Changra noticed the faintest flicker of something in her eyes as she glanced at Jane sitting close to him. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual calm expression, but it lingered in the back of Changra's mind. What was that? he wondered but quickly pushed the thought aside as Thorne stood dramatically.

"Now, lemme tell y'all 'bout the time I went head-to-head with a chicken," Thorne began, puffing his chest out like he was about to recount some legendary feat.

"A chicken?" Aria asked, raising an eyebrow. "This I have to hear."

"Not just any chicken!" Thorne exclaimed, waving his hands for emphasis. "This beast was twice my size, with talons sharp as daggers and eyes that could pierce yer soul."

Jane snorted, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh, while Aria crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. "And let me guess—you lost to it."

"I didn't lose!" Thorne yelled, feigning offense. "That bird cheated! Jumped outta nowhere and ambushed me. I was defenseless!"

"Uh-huh," Aria said, her deadpan expression making Jane burst out laughing.

"It's true!" Thorne insisted, pointing at Changra. "Kid, you believe me, don't ya?"

Changra grinned, shaking his head. "I mean, I've never fought a chicken, but... sounds like you got outsmarted."

Thorne threw up his hands in mock defeat. "Y'all don't understand the cunning of that demon bird!"

The entire group burst into laughter, the tension from earlier fading into the warmth of the moment. Changra couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He glanced at Berethia, whose smile seemed genuine, but that flicker from earlier haunted him. Why does she seem... off? he thought, watching the flames dance in her calm gaze.

The fire burned lower now, its warm glow casting long shadows across the clearing. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sounds the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. The magical trees around them seemed to hum faintly, a soothing yet strange backdrop to their camp.

Jane sat cross-legged by the fire, her small notebook resting on her lap as she sketched with a determined look on her face. Changra, curious, leaned over to see what she was working on.

"What's that?" he asked, genuinely intrigued as his gaze flicked between the book and her focused expression.

Jane glanced up at him, offering a small, shy smile. "It's a memory book. I like drawing things I want to remember."

Changra tilted his head. "Like what?"

She pointed at the page, where rough but impressive sketches of the bridge, the fight, and the forest clearing were coming to life. "Like today—the bridge, the fight, all of it. Even the scary parts. I don't want to forget."

Changra watched as she added small details, shading the edges of the ravine and sketching tiny figures to represent their group crossing the precarious bridge. Her hand moved with careful precision, each stroke deliberate. She's been through so much already, Changra thought, a pang of guilt hitting him. But she still finds a way to focus on the good. How does she do it?

"Why not just focus on the nice stuff?" Changra asked softly. "The scary parts... don't they make it harder?"

Jane paused, her pencil hovering above the page. "Maybe," she admitted, "but they're part of the story too. If I forget the hard stuff, it's like pretending it didn't happen. And... I don't know, I think it makes the good parts mean more."

Changra sat back, letting her words sink in. He admired her in that moment—her strength, her resilience. He wished he could see the world like she did, find meaning even in the chaos.

Across the camp, Berethia sat in the entrance to her tent, her figure bathed in shadows. She watched them in silence, her gaze lingering on Jane and Changra. Her usual soft expression faltered for a brief moment, her eyes hardening as her fingers gripped the edge of her cloak. The flicker of envy in her gaze was unmistakable, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual gentle smile.

Jane glanced up and caught Berethia's eye, waving at her with a cheerful grin. Berethia returned the wave, her smile as warm as the firelight. Changra, oblivious to the exchange, reached for a stick and poked at the embers absently, lost in his thoughts.

"Do you ever wonder what's next?" Jane asked suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet.

"Huh?" Changra looked up at her, startled.

"After all of this," she said, gesturing at the camp, the forest, and the world beyond. "Do you ever wonder where it's all leading?"

Changra hesitated. "Yeah," he admitted. "But I try not to think too much about it. I mean, I don't even know why I'm here in the first place."

Jane's gaze softened. "Maybe it's to find out. One step at a time."

Her words offered a strange comfort, but Changra couldn't shake the unease that lingered. As Jane returned to her sketching, he glanced toward Berethia, who had disappeared into her tent. One step at a time, he repeated to himself, though the path ahead felt more uncertain than ever.

The campfire had dimmed to soft embers, its glow barely illuminating the clearing. The others had retired to their tents, leaving Changra sitting by the fire, staring into the fading flames. Sleep wasn't an option, not with the whirl of thoughts rattling around in his head.

"I'll take first watch," he announced, not that anyone was really listening.

Berethia had already slipped into her tent without a word, and Jane was curled up inside hers, probably sketching more memories before drifting off. Aria, ever composed, had simply given him a nod of acknowledgment before disappearing.

Changra poked the embers with a stick, trying to ignore the weight in his chest. Why was he here? What did this place want from him?

Before his thoughts could spiral further, a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Ain't lettin' ya do it alone, kid," Thorne said, his deep voice breaking the silence. "What if somethin' big comes? Ya need my muscles." He flexed dramatically, the light from the embers catching the slight sheen of sweat on his forearm.

Changra stifled a laugh, looking up at Thorne's exaggerated pose. "Yeah, because the last thing I want to face alone is another giant chicken."

Thorne grinned wide, his teeth catching the faint firelight. "That was not a chicken. That was a damn feathered monster."

Changra shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "Sure, let's call it that."

The two of them sat down on logs near the edge of the camp, the magical forest around them humming faintly. The sound wasn't unpleasant—more like a soft vibration in the air, a reminder that this world was alive in ways Changra still couldn't understand.

They sat in silence for a while, the occasional snap of a twig or rustle of leaves the only interruptions. Changra's gaze wandered upward, catching glimpses of stars through the glowing canopy above. It was beautiful, but it felt... heavy.

I still don't understand why I'm here, Changra thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. What am I supposed to do? Why me?

His mind drifted back to Earth, to the life he left behind—or the life that left him behind. The memories felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite fit together. And then there was the dagger, its voice, the strange power it seemed to hold over him. Every piece of this world felt like it was pulling him deeper into something he didn't understand.

Thorne must've noticed the quiet, because he nudged Changra with his elbow. "Don't think too hard, kid. World's too big to figure out in one night."

Changra glanced over, surprised by the simplicity of the statement. Despite Thorne's atrocious grammar, the words felt oddly comforting. "That supposed to be wisdom?"

Thorne smirked. "Damn right it is. My gran used to say that too. 'Cept she'd add somethin' 'bout not trustin' squirrels, but I figure that don't apply here."

Changra blinked, caught off guard. "Not... trusting squirrels?"

Thorne nodded sagely, as if imparting ancient knowledge. "Sneaky little critters. Always watchin'. I swear one stole my lunch once."

Changra snorted, shaking his head. "I think your gran just didn't like animals."

"Could be," Thorne admitted with a shrug. "She weren't all there most days. Still, good advice don't gotta make sense."

Changra chuckled softly, leaning back against the log. The weight in his chest didn't feel quite so heavy anymore. For all his quirks and questionable grammar, Thorne had a way of making things feel a little less overwhelming.

As the night stretched on, the two of them kept watch together, their quiet laughter and easy conversation blending with the soft hum of the forest.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth fading into the cool embrace of the magical forest. The glowing trees cast a gentle, ethereal light over the camp, their multicolored hues flickering like distant stars. The hum of magic in the air felt almost like a lullaby, wrapping the group in a rare sense of peace.

Changra shifted on his log, his gaze drifting over his sleeping companions. Jane was curled up closest to the fire, her notebook clutched tightly against her chest as if even in sleep she refused to let go of the day's memories. Aria lay in her tent, her breathing slow and steady, the ever-composed fighter finally allowing herself a moment of vulnerability. Thorne was sprawled out awkwardly, one arm hanging out of his tent, snoring lightly. Even in sleep, he looked like he was ready to swing a sword at anything that moved.

Changra leaned back, the unease from earlier still lingering in the corners of his mind. Why does this place always feel like it's hiding something? he thought. For all the beauty and magic, there was something about Elakia that didn't sit right with him. Why was I brought here? What am I even supposed to do?

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts aside. It wasn't the time for existential crises—not when the night was so calm, so still. Instead, he let his eyes wander up to the canopy, the faint glimmers of stars peeking through the shimmering leaves. At least for now, everything's okay.

Or so he thought.

The flap of Berethia's tent rustled softly, breaking the silence. She stepped out quietly, her gaze sweeping over the camp. She moved with a grace that seemed almost unnatural, her footsteps silent on the soft earth. Her eyes, that same piercing color that always seemed to hold a secret, lingered on each of them—first Jane, then Thorne and Aria. But when her gaze fell on Changra, it stayed.

Her expression was unreadable, a mixture of something warm and something cold, like a mask that didn't quite fit. Her lips curled into a faint smile, but there was something behind it—something that made the unease in Changra's chest stir again, though he didn't know why.

Berethia stood there for a moment longer, then slipped back into her tent without a sound, the flap falling into place as if she'd never left.

Changra stared at the tent, his unease now a steady drumbeat in his mind. He wanted to dismiss it, to convince himself he was overthinking things. She's been nothing but kind. Why would I doubt her?

But the feeling wouldn't go away.

The fire crackled again, drawing his attention back. The peaceful rhythm of the forest's hum surrounded him, the glow of the trees soft and inviting. He took a deep breath, letting the calmness of the scene wash over him. Whatever it is, I'll deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, at least, I'll rest.

The he camp nestled beneath the glowing canopy. The fire's light flickered gently, casting long shadows that danced in the magical haze. The hum of magic continued, lulling the group into much-needed rest, as the mysteries of the night held their secrets for another day.