The morning sun pierced through the canopy of the ancient forest, casting dappled light onto our path as we moved cautiously through the underbrush. The air was thick with tension, each of us still processing the recent events. Our steps were heavy, burdened by the weight of decisions and the unknown that lay ahead. As we rounded a bend, I saw something—or rather, someone—that made me stop dead in my tracks.
"Is that...?" My voice trailed off, disbelief choking my words.
Ahead of us stood a figure, cloaked and hooded, but unmistakably familiar. As the person lifted their hood, the face that was revealed sent a shockwave through our group.
"Lyra?" I whispered, my heart skipping a beat.
Lyra had been a dear friend, believed lost in the early battles against the Demon King's forces. The sight of her, alive and seemingly well, brought a mix of joy, confusion, and an overwhelming urge to run to her.
