The heat of the firewall had faded, leaving only thin wisps of smoke curling into the air between Luke, Ilyrana, and the dark elves. Master Deylin stood before them, assessing them with an air of calculated curiosity. His followers lingered in a circle, watchful, weapons at their sides but not entirely at ease.
Luke glanced at Ilyrana, then turned back to Master Deylin, breaking the tense silence.
"So... what now?" he asked, half expecting some new trick or condition.
They'd agreed to a ceasefire, but it didn't mean he felt any safer. Their standoff had left an uneasy truce, yet no one had discussed what would come next.
Master Deylin's lips curved into a thoughtful smirk as he addressed them, though his tone was measured, almost rhetorical.
