At the Northern Primordial World. Lumina, Dunstan, and their subordinates were halfway back to their encampment. Their movements were sluggish, feet dragging across the worn earth as though burdened by invisible chains, heavy with grief, and the lingering echoes of the chaos they had endured.
Lumina's gaze remained lowered, fixed on the uneven path ahead, though her thoughts wandered far beyond the present terrain.
"It seems that anonymous figure still haunts your thoughts… clinging to your mind like a shadow that won't let go," Dunstan said, his voice low, steady, and wind-brushed as he walked beside her.
Lumina's eyes widened slightly, the words tugging her back from the haze of her own mind. Her head lifted.
