The morning after the battle felt heavy, but not in the way of physical exhaustion. Instead, it was the weight of unspoken tension, of a coalition held together by necessity rather than trust. Biodun stood outside the base, the cool air brushing against his face as he watched the sun rise over the distant hills. The horizon bathed in golden light felt like a contrast to the dark uncertainty looming in his mind. The team had defended the artifact, but they had come dangerously close to failure. Close enough that the cracks in their unity could no longer be ignored.
He turned slightly as Tunde emerged from the building, rubbing his eyes and yawning, his usual carefree swagger dulled by fatigue. “Rough night,” Tunde muttered, leaning against the doorframe.
“Yeah,” Biodun replied, still staring at the horizon, “but it’s not just about the fight.”
Tunde gave him a sideways glance. “You’re thinking about what comes next?”