Meanwhile…
The adventurers had settled down to relax and wait for Kaela, hearing the sounds of thane echo through the forest they were sure her hunt has ended.
Lyra wiped sweat from her brow, glancing at the others. A faint unease crept over her expression as her gaze swept beyond the caravan. "Has anyone seen him?" she muttered.
The others paused. A ripple of silence spread across the group. Their guest, the enigmatic traveler, was nowhere to be found among the caravan.
"Come to think of it... he's not part of us," said Dain, his voice hoarse. "But he's still been traveling with us."
"And powerful," Lyra added, brows furrowing. "If he had joined the fight, we wouldn't have struggled so much. Thane and his men wouldn't have lasted long."
Unease lingered. The man had walked with them, never revealing much but radiating an undeniable presence. For him to vanish so completely was... strange.
Suddenly, the wind carried a chill, and Alaric tensed, his senses alert. A faint but distinct presence flickered at the edge of camp, "Something's out there," he said his voice laced with caution.
The adventurers bristled, their exhaustion forgotten as they turned toward the source of that presence. Shapes danced at the edge of shadow and moonlight.
Then, from the darkness, a figure emerged. Slowly. Steadily. His silhouette cut through the haze, unmistakable as he stepped into the silver glow.
"It's him," Lyra breathed, relaxing but blinking in confusion.
The figure revealed himself, his expression calm as ever, as if the chaos of the battle hadn't fazed him. He looked over the weary group and offered a small, knowing nod.
"You were... watching?" Alaric asked, his voice carrying bewilderment.
He didn't answer, only giving a faint nod.
The adventurers exchanged glances. His lack of involvement now made a strange sort of sense—he hadn't been hired, after all—but there was no denying the weight of his absence. He could have turned the tide in moments, yet he had chosen not to interfere.
Before questions could press further, Kaela returned.
Kaela emerged into the firelight, her silhouette imposing. In one hand, she clutched something that sent a ripple of unease through the camp.
Thane's head dangled from her grip, his lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. Blood dripped from her claws.
No one spoke. Even the most seasoned warriors turned their gazes away. Kaela tossed the head to the ground near the fire, its impact a dull thud.
"It's done," she said flatly.
Lyra swallowed hard but managed a nod. "Good."
Kaela's feral energy slowly faded as she sat down, finally allowing herself a moment's rest. The adventurers followed suit, though the air remained heavy.
As for him, he quietly observed it all from where he sat, unnoticed again by most. He leaned back against a cart wheel, his gaze lingering on Kaela for a moment longer than necessary. The faintest smile crossed his face.
Once everyone regained their strength, the journey began again. The adventurers rode on horseback, forming a protective ring around the caravan. Weariness weighed heavy on them all, their tired faces etched with the toll of battle. Yet, none could deny that staying in the battlefield's shadow any longer was unbearable. The caravan pressed forward into the silent night, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the creak of wagon wheels breaking the stillness.
As the caravan continued its journey, he sat in the cart, a nagging sensation he couldn't shake. He turned to Garrick, who was holding the reins and running the cart near the front.
"I forgot something at the clearing," his tone calm but firm. "I'll catch up with you soon. Please continue without me."
Garrick paused for a moment, considering the request. "Alright," he said after a beat, nodding. "We'll slow down the pace for you, but make sure you're back quickly."
Garrick then gestured toward one of the adventurers riding nearby. "Dain, can you lend him your horse? You can sit in the cart until we pick up the pace again."
Dain handed the reins to him, and with a silent nod, he got off the cart and mounted the horse. With a nod of gratitude, he turned his horse back toward the clearing. Alone now, he dismounted and walked into the destruction left behind.
The clearing lay before him, still marred by the remnants of the battle. Trees were broken, their trunks and branches shattered, and bodies of the bandits were scattered across the ground. His chest tightened as he gazed upon the devastation. He could feel the pain, an ache deep within him that he couldn't understand. Ilyana's words echoed in his mind: "Nature is my mother and so to all beings. She nurtures us, even when we forget her. How can we not feel her pain?" He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening into fists. Was this grief for the land? For the lives lost? Or was it simply the emptiness her absence left behind?
Dropping to one knee, he placed his palms gently upon the earth. He didn't fully understand why, but his heart demanded it. Slowly, green began to bloom where the earth had been scorched. Grass sprouted, tender shoots climbing toward the moonlight, and broken trees began to regrow, new trunks and branches rising where the old had fallen. The ground, once scarred, now breathed with new life.
His gaze shifted to the bodies of the bandits. His hands moved, calling upon the earth to reclaim them, and the ground stirred beneath them. Roots emerged, cradling the lifeless forms, drawing them into the earth's embrace. Flowers began to bloom where they lay, their vibrant colors a quiet requiem for the lives that had passed.
Though he had vowed not to intervene in the world's affairs, his act of restoring the land was one of quiet kindness—an act no one would ever know about. The moon and the forest, however, stood as his witnesses. They saw his actions and the truth behind them: that his heart had not turned to stone. Though he would never admit it, the moon and the forest knew that, despite his reservations, he still cared for the world. Even for the bandits, who had lived lives steeped in evil, he could not allow their lifeless bodies to be left to be devoured by the wild. He buried them, not because they deserved it, but because they were still part of the world he fought to protect.
As he rose, the ache within him softened, though it did not fade entirely. A warm breeze swept past him, brushing against his cheek, gentle and fleeting. For a moment, it felt as though unseen hands were thanking him, comforting him. He paused, his gaze lifting to the canopy of the trees overhead, now alive with faint whispers of leaves. He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Imagining things," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. How could he feel a warm breeze in the midst of the cold night? The chill of the air didn't match the sensation—yet, somehow, it lingered.
With one last glance at the newly reborn land, he turned mounting his horse, and rode back to the caravan. The sound of their journey reached him before he saw them—hooves and wheels rolling steadily on. Once he reached them, he returned the horse to Dain and got into the cart, rejoining the group in silence. The journey continued, and though he said nothing of what had transpired, the warmth of the wind and the memory of Ilyana's words stayed with him, a secret kept close to his heart.