he morning sun rose slowly over the Crimson Wastes, casting long shadows across the jagged terrain. The air was cooler than the day before, the crisp breeze carrying with it a sense of unease. Around a small campfire, the group gathered, their expressions a mix of curiosity and determination.
At the edge of the campsite, one of the captured bandits sat bound, his hands tied securely behind his back. His face was bruised from the fight, and his dusty clothing spoke of a hard life. Yet, there was a defiance in his eyes that had yet to be broken.
Lyra stood before him, her greatsword resting against her shoulder. Her piercing gaze bore into the man, demanding answers. Sylvia sat casually nearby, her green eyes gleaming with barely restrained amusement. Victor leaned on his staff, his expression calm but watchful, while Nakia stood silently behind him, her presence commanding. Violet and Ember remained slightly to the side, observing but ready to act if needed.
