The day had slipped away quietly, like a heavy sheet slowly pulled from a body. The sky had turned copper, then ashen blue, until night finally took its place, without clamor or wind.
They had gathered in a narrow clearing, sheltered beneath a moss-covered rocky overhang. Nothing moved around them. No birds, no cries. The land had fallen silent, as though kneeling before the full moon preparing to rise.
This time, there was no crackling fire. They couldn't risk lighting one.
Only a few smothered embers in a shallow trench dug into the ground. The important thing was not to signal their presence—but above all, to make use of the little time they had left before night transformed into something else.
Seated in a circle, the three figures did not speak.
Each had before them one or two anima gems—pale, vibrating crystals, torn from bodies they hadn't had time to mourn.
