The Fading Presence

The cold wind coiled around them like an unseen specter, whispering through the stillness of the night. A smile flickered across their faces, faint but genuine.

"Long time no see, Onyxelle. Everok," Nyxander said, his voice carrying the warmth of a long-lost bond, yet laced with an unspoken weight. His words broke the silence like a stone disturbing the surface of a tranquil lake.

"Where have you been? You just vanished from the clan without a trace." Onyxelle's voice, once as sharp and unyielding as a warrior's blade, now softened, threaded with the quiet tremor of concern. She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, her piercing gaze searching him for answers beyond mere words.

Everok, his presence as steady as a mountain, crossed his left arm over Nyxander's shoulder, a gesture both firm and familiar. "You didn't even give us a warning before disappearing," he said, a half-smile curving his lips, though his eyes held an unspoken question.