"I'm not the God of heroes,"
As the weary warriors found a small patch of ground to rest, they sank to their knees, each caught in their own quiet thoughts. The crackling remnants of their torches cast flickering light across their exhausted faces, shadowed eyes betraying both fatigue and lingering defiance.
Lysandra sheathed her sword and let out a slow, steadying breath. She glanced at Thalric, who was rubbing his bruised shoulder, his jaw set in that same determined line. Ellara sat nearby, absentmindedly running her fingers over her arrows, her hands still trembling slightly from the tension of their near-death struggle. Valen leaned against a boulder, stretching his aching limbs, a wry smirk playing at his lips as he muttered, "Well, for all her talk, she sure knew how to make an exit."