The camp was eerily quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the low murmur of the night wind. Amara sat alone near the edge of the camp, her back resting against a large stone. Her thoughts were tangled, each one pulling her in a different direction. The weight of what they had learned, what they had been through, and what was yet to come bore heavily on her.
She hadn't slept since the encounter with the Keeper. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the dark eyes of the ancient being, his voice echoing in her mind: *The seal is temporary. The storm is coming.*
Her fingers absently traced the small pendant around her neck, the one her mother had given her long ago. It had been a symbol of hope and protection, but now it felt like a reminder of how little she truly knew. The magic she wielded was powerful, but there was always a price.
