The chill of early morning clung to the air as Damien rode back to Blackmere, his steel-gray eyes scanning the horizon. The roads were quieter than usual, the echoes of Halric's failed rebellion still rippling through the northern territories. Though the immediate threat had been dealt with, Damien's thoughts remained troubled. Each victory seemed to reveal more cracks in the kingdom's fragile foundation.
Amara rode beside him, her sharp blue eyes catching the faint worry etched into Damien's features. "You've been awfully quiet," she said, breaking the silence.
"Just thinking," Damien replied.
"You mean brooding," Amara corrected, smirking faintly. "You know, most people celebrate a win, Damien. You might want to try it sometime."
Damien allowed himself a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Halric's rebellion wasn't a win. It was a reminder of how deep the kingdom's fractures run. For every traitor we stop, another steps forward."