New Comrade (1)

The sword looked right at his side. Not like a trophy. Like a tool finally back in a hand that might deserve it.

Lira watched from the far end of the room. Her posture stayed loose. Arms folded. One boot pressed to the stone with just enough pressure to feel the cold through the sole.

She didn't speak.

Not yet.

Lindarion glanced at the sword again. Then his fingers tapped the grip once, as if testing if it would speak back.

'Good instincts,' she thought. 'Careful ones.'

Ardan moved toward the door. Not rushed. Just alert.

He made it look casual. Like nothing surprised him. Like nothing would.

That alone made Lira watch harder.

She stepped away from the wall.

The air near the door was sharper now. The wind had turned. She could smell it. Something metallic in the current. Not blood. Not frost. Just edge.