Whispers of the Shadowheart

The first rays of dawn filtered through the cracks in the heavy curtains of Alaric's quarters, casting soft light over the room. Alaric stood by the window, staring out at the city of Aetheris as it slowly awoke. His mind was preoccupied with the events of the previous night—the ambush, the ritual, and the Order's growing threat. The victory was bittersweet, a temporary respite in a much larger conflict.

Adrian entered quietly, a cup of steaming tea in hand. "You look like you haven't slept," he said, handing the cup to Alaric.

Alaric accepted the tea with a grateful nod. "I haven't had much rest since we got back. There's so much to think about."

Adrian took a seat at the small table in the corner of the room. "We should get some rest. We've accomplished a lot, but there's more to be done. It's important to stay sharp."