A Restless Night

The night settled over the camp with a quiet stillness, broken only by the occasional crackle of the campfire and the muted rustling of leaves in the wind. Caelum sat alone in his tent, his usually sharp eyes clouded with uncharacteristic contemplation. His hands rested on the wooden table before him, fingers lightly drumming against the surface as his thoughts swirled like an untamed storm.

The child. The little flower who had so effortlessly sown chaos into his meticulously ordered life. How had she survived in the middle of nowhere for so long? What had she eaten? Who had cared for her—if anyone at all? And, more troublingly, why did her presence evoke such an unfamiliar sense of… responsibility in him?

Caelum let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in his chair. He had faced countless enemies on the battlefield, negotiated with the most cunning of politicians, and yet this single, fragile child had him at a loss. There was something unsettling about the ease with which she disarmed not only his temper but also the deep-seated animosity between himself and Seraphina—if only for fleeting moments.

His mind replayed the events of the day. Her bright, innocent smile as she placed that ridiculous flower crown on his head. The way she had dragged him and Seraphina to the table with a determination that defied reason. The way she had called them "friends." The memory made his jaw clench, though he wasn't sure whether it was out of irritation or something far more complex.

He stood abruptly, pushing the chair back with a scrape. The confines of the tent felt suffocating, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on his chest. He stepped outside, the cool night air doing little to calm the turmoil within. The camp was quiet, most of his guards already retired for the night, save for the few stationed on watch. The flickering firelight cast long shadows that danced across the field.

From a distance, he could see the faint glow of the Crimsonvale camp. Even in the dark, it seemed to radiate an oppressive presence, much like its mistress. Caelum's thoughts shifted to Seraphina. She, too, had been uncharacteristically… restrained. The biting exchanges were still there, of course, but he had caught a glimpse of something softer when she interacted with the child. It was unsettling, to say the least.

"Why?" he muttered to himself, his voice low. "Why do I care?"

The question lingered in the air, unanswered and unwelcome. He folded his arms, his gaze drifting to the stars above. For years, he had defined himself by his duty, his strength, and his unwavering resolve. Emotions were a weakness he could not afford, yet here he was, unraveling over a child who barely reached his waist.

"My lord," a voice called softly, breaking his reverie. One of his guards approached, bowing slightly. "Is everything all right?"

Caelum straightened, his expression hardening into its usual stoicism. "I'm fine. Ensure the perimeter is secure."

The guard nodded and retreated, leaving Caelum alone once more. He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his dark hair.