The Weight of a Real Mage

The return to camp was slow.

Luke and Ilyrana rode easily, their tiger moving no faster than Commander Valerie, who walked beside them. The earlier battle had drained them all—not just physically, but mentally. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind exhaustion and the heavy weight of reality.

The forest had fallen into silence again, the echoes of combat replaced by the distant crackle of torches and the murmurs of knights ahead. Yet, as they neared the camp, Luke felt something else.

Eyes.

The knights were watching him.

Some stood near the camp's entrance, others sat by the fires tending to wounds or sharpening their weapons, but all of them, at some point, turned to him. There was no hostility in their gazes—only gratitude, and admiration.

If not for him, tonight's fight might have gone very differently.