The relentless sound of the storm raged beyond the crystalline dome, its howling winds a constant reminder of the Shattering Wastes' unforgiving nature. Thane sat just outside the dome, his broad frame illuminated faintly by the iridescent glow of Seline's creation. His gaze was fixed blankly on the night sky, where fractured clouds swirled ominously, revealing fleeting glimpses of faint stars. The air was heavy, carrying with it a tension that matched the weight in his chest.
He rested his arms on his knees, fingers interlocked, as he kept watch. The others were inside, resting and awaiting their turn to stand guard. For now, it was just him and the endless expanse of desolation.
