The air in the settlement's meeting chamber was thick with unease. Solen stood at the head of the room, his fingers tracing the faded runes carved into the stone table. The faint glow of lanterns illuminated his face, accentuating the lines etched by years of wisdom and worry.
Kaelron sat across from him, gripping the relic at his side as it pulsed faintly, a rhythmic beat that mirrored his own unease. Zerin leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his sharp eyes fixed on Solen. Eryk sat nearby, his frost wolf Frostbane resting at his feet, though his drumming fingers against the hilt of his sword betrayed his tension. Nyx stood near the doorway, Umbra prowling at her side, while Lys lingered in the shadows, her gaze flickering between the group and the room's intricate carvings.
