As dusk began to settle, the village hummed with an energy both hopeful and heavy. Fires sparked to life around the square as the villagers and Bob's group gathered, forming a makeshift camp amidst the modest homes and shops. The quiet resilience in their eyes mirrored the quiet whispers of purpose shared among them. Weapons, old and worn but carefully tended, lay gleaming in the firelight—a collection of memories and promises, sharp with intention.
Bob sat by one of the fires, sharpening his blade with meticulous care. The rhythm was soothing, grounding him as he wrestled with the enormity of the journey ahead. Felicia settled beside him, glancing at his blade with a faint smile.
