Ilyrana sat alone by the fire's dim glow, her sharp elven eyes piercing through the dark. The surrounding woods were silent, save for the occasional crackle of dying embers and the rhythmic breathing of the two men who had already fallen into deep sleep. Luke lay wrapped in his robe, his face relaxed despite the tense situation they had escaped earlier. On the other hand, Rhys shifted restlessly in his sleep, his subconscious still caught up in the chaos of the day's events.
Her posture was relaxed but alert, her senses sharper than any human could ever be, even in such moments. She could hear the soft rustling of leaves in the distance, the gentle hum of insects in the undergrowth, and the faint whisper of the wind brushing past the trees. Her ears twitched ever so slightly at each sound, assessing, measuring, and determining if it posed any threat.
