"Listen to this," Damian began, his voice steady yet tinged with intrigue.
"An odd thing happened tonight. I saw one of them—Tiryn—alone by the fire, sharpening her blade long after the rest had gone to sleep. Her eyes looked hollow, her hands too steady. It struck me then how little I truly know about any of them. They seem so unified, yet fragments show if you're watching. And I'm always watching."
"Then this.." He paused for a moment, then continued reading:
"I dreamed of a darkened room, suffocatingly quiet, save for whispers I couldn't understand. When I woke, his voice carried over the camp, rousing everyone for another journey. His words were steady, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. It's the first time I've seen a crack in his facade. I wonder if anyone else noticed, or if they've convinced themselves there's no need to look."