Rain came soft at first misty and uncertain before thickening into steady droplets that kissed the forest floor with rhythm. The world around Kael and Liora grew damp and quiet, the usual rustle of woodland creatures retreating into silence. They pressed on, cloaked in wet cloaks and heavier thoughts, until they found an old stone outpost swallowed halfway by the trees.
It was barely more than rubble and memories, but it had a roof and a fireplace. That was enough.
Kael got the fire going after three tries, cursing under his breath as wet twigs hissed and spat. When the flames finally took, a tired grin pulled at his lips. "We're not dead yet," he muttered, brushing his hands off on his pants. "That counts for something."
Liora gave him a side-eyed smirk as she unfastened her cloak. "You know, that's the most optimistic thing I've heard you say all week."
Kael shrugged, then leaned back against the wall, letting the fire's warmth seep into his bones. "Guess you're rubbing off on me."
She sat beside him, their shoulders brushing, both too tired to care. For a while, they said nothing, just listened to the rain pattering against broken stone and watched the flames dance. The fire cracked and sighed like an old soul telling stories they weren't ready to hear yet.
Kael broke the quiet. "Do you ever feel like we're just… surviving? Not really living?"
Liora's eyes stayed on the fire. "Yeah," she whispered. "More than I'd like to admit."
He nodded slowly. "I miss stupid things. Real beds. Fresh bread. Laughter that isn't… bitter. I miss my sister's voice when she was teasing me, not yelling because the world was falling apart."
Liora swallowed hard. "I miss music. Not battle chants or war drums. Just… someone playing a tune in the background, like the world didn't need saving for a minute."
Silence again. But this time it felt shared, like a blanket pulled over both of them.
Kael turned to her. "Maybe we'll get that again one day. Not all of it. But some pieces. Little things."
"Small fires," she murmured, nodding toward the hearth.
He looked at the flames and smiled. "Yeah. Small fires."
It wasn't a promise. It wasn't a plan. It was a hope quiet and fragile and desperately human.
And in a world scarred by magic, war, and loss, maybe that was the bravest thing they had left.