Elara matched Ignatius’s pace as they jogged down the unfamiliar path, following Esme’s directions toward the exit. She strained her hearing, hoping to catch any signs of surprises lurking in the shadows, but nothing caught her attention. The group pressed on; the minutes stretching.

  Esme’s voice cut through the quiet. “This is the spiderweb tunnel where you guys fell,” she said, amusement lacing her words.

  Elara’s brow furrowed, a twinge of jealousy tugging at her. “Did you not fall?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

  Esme’s grin was almost audible. “No, we did not.”

  Elara bit back any further comments, focusing instead on the path ahead. Ignatius, seemingly unfazed by the revelation, burned the webs. He conjured a flame; the smoke billowing around them as they pressed forward, determined not to fall into another hole.

  The flickering firelight, joined by the steady glow of Selly’s lantern, cast shifting shadows along the walls. They moved carefully, weaving around gaping holes that yawned beneath them, ready to swallow the unwary.

  The group retraced their steps with renewed urgency, weaving through the cavern that had once echoed with the howls of wolves. Now, an unnatural silence pressed in around them, spurring them forward, their pace quickening with every step as they put the dungeon’s oppressive depths behind them.

  Emerging from the tunnel, Elara drew in a deep breath, the fresh air sharp and invigorating after the stale, heavy atmosphere below. Sunlight struck her eyes, forcing her to squint against its sudden intensity. The world outside felt too bright, too real, as if she had been gone longer than she realized.

  Her gaze swept over the expedition camp. Patches of trampled grass marked where four tents had once stood—now gone. The missing tents must have belonged to the Blackwood entourage, maybe even Gilvanis’s camp. The eerie quiet gnawed at her. Slynn’s group was nowhere to be seen. No sign of the others who had entered the dungeon with them.

  A thought itched at the back of her mind. Had the others received the same notification that the dungeon was complete? Were they already making their way out, or had they pressed deeper into the unknown?

  Krill strode to a specific tent, yanked back the flap, and scanned the interior before gesturing for Tirn and Esme to bring Velma and Selly inside. The two moved carefully, their quiet urgency reflected in the way they handled their injured comrades. They eased Velma and Selly onto blankets spread over the bedrolls, their every motion deliberate, controlled.

  Elara lingered near the entrance, her chest tight as she watched Krill kneel beside Velma. A soft, green light flared around his hands, casting faint, shifting shadows across her pale face.

  Her gaze settled on Selly as she cautiously pushed herself upright. Relief flickered across her face, her tense shoulders easing as she took in Esme and Tirn standing nearby. Gratitude softened her features, a quiet acknowledgment of what could have been.

  “Thank you, truly,” Selly murmured, her voice unsteady with exhaustion. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you two hadn’t been there.”

  Esme, ever the picture of effortless confidence, waved off the praise with a small smile. “Just another day on the job,” she said, her tone breezy, though the warmth in her eyes gave her away.

  Beside her, Tirn dipped his head in a silent nod, his usual stoicism easing—if only for a moment.

  As Esme and Tirn stepped out of the tent, Elara’s gaze followed them. Esme strode toward Slynn and reached for her hammer. Slynn, who had been holding it, seemed momentarily startled as she effortlessly hefted the heavy weapon from his grasp. The casual display of strength left him visibly flustered.

  Esme caught the look and grinned at him, clearly amused by his reaction. “Careful there, Slynn,” she teased. “Wouldn’t want you straining yourself.”

  Slynn chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he walked past Esme, trying to recover some of his composure. As he neared Elara, he paused, his smile turning sheepish. “Well, I’d say our brief acquaintance has been... eventful,” he said, his thoughts clearly still lingering on their wild slide down the tunnel. The memory of that chaotic descent flashed in Elara’s mind.

  He hesitated, then added, “Don’t be a stranger the next time we meet.” With a small, sincere nod, he disappeared into the tent where Krill remained focused on healing the others..

  Elara’s thoughts drifted as she watched Esme and her team. The dungeon was complete. The immediate danger had passed. Yet a strange uncertainty lingered. What now? Would they simply go their separate ways, or was there still more to come?

  She hoped—more than she wanted to admit—that this wasn’t the end. There was something about fighting alongside a group, about the heat of battle, that made her reluctant to let go. The camaraderie they had built felt real, despite the uncertainties that had plagued them.

  A breeze swept through the camp, tugging at her hair and carrying the crisp scent of the nearby river. It pulled her from her thoughts, drawing her gaze to the horizon. The sun dipped low, washing the sky in streaks of orange and pink. A quiet stillness settled over everything—the kind that came in the space between what had been and what was yet to come.

  Esme’s voice cut through the silence. With a bright smile, she turned to Ignatius, eyes twinkling with something genuine. She clapped him on the shoulder, her hand lingering just long enough to make the gesture feel more than casual.

  “Nice work reaching level 100, Ignatius!” she said, her voice warm and full of cheer.

  Ignatius, lost in thought as he gazed into the distance, turned at Esme’s words. The tension etched into his features eased, the exhaustion in his eyes giving way to something lighter. “Thank you, Esme,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of relief and quiet pride. “Feels good to finally reach that milestone.”

  Behind Esme, Tirn gave a single nod, his usual stoicism intact, but a flicker of approval visible in his gaze. “Congratulations,” he said, his deep voice grounding the moment with quiet weight.

  The acknowledgment seemed to lift something from Ignatius’s shoulders. He straightened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Elara watched the exchange, but the deal she had made with Esme’s group crept back into her thoughts, the terms now feeling unsettlingly vague.

  Esme’s attention shifted to her, the warmth in her smile unwavering. “Hey, congratulations on hitting level 50!” she said, her voice brimming with genuine encouragement.

  Heat crept up Elara’s neck as the attention landed on her. “Oh, um, thank you,” she stammered, caught off guard. Her mind spun, the weight of the deal pressing against the relief of their survival.

  She drew in a breath, pushing past the unease. “About our deal…” she began, searching for the right words.

  Esme’s grin stretched wider, and she waved a hand dismissively, as if brushing away an annoying thought. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said with a carefree tone. “We couldn’t really keep up our end of the deal anyway. No loot to give you.”

  Her laughter rang out, bright and easy, filling the quiet camp with its warmth. The sound echoed gently, a stark contrast to the tension that still lingered in Elara’s chest.

  Elara’s brow furrowed, caught off guard by the lightness in Esme’s response. “But you bought me armor and a dagger sheath,” she said, her voice a mix of confusion and protest. “That’s more than enough.”

  Esme shook her head with a playful smirk. “I disagree,” she replied, her tone light but firm. “We could argue about this forever, but let’s not. Consider it a gift and let’s move on.”

  The firmness in Esme’s voice, paired with her easy grin, left little room for further discussion. There was a sincerity in her words that made it hard for Elara to hold on to her worries. How could she resist such straightforward kindness?

  Elara hesitated, caught between wanting to settle her sense of indebtedness and the urge to accept Esme’s generosity without further question. A part of her still wanted to press, to ensure she wasn’t overlooking something important. But another part—one that trusted Esme and her team—felt the pull to simply accept the gesture for what it was.

  With a resigned sigh, Elara gave a tentative smile. “Alright,” she murmured, “if you’re sure.” She glanced around the camp, the soft rustling of the evening breeze soothing against the weight of the conversation.

  Esme’s grin softened into a more genuine smile. “Definitely sure,” she replied, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Now, let’s not waste any more time with this. We’ve had quite the day, haven’t we?”

  Elara allowed herself to relax slightly, the warmth of the moment easing some of her lingering tension.

  But then Esme’s tone shifted, her sharp eyes locking onto Elara’s with a newfound seriousness. “Alira,” she began, her voice lower, deliberate, “I need to know if you recognized anyone from the other groups.”

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  Elara stiffened under the sudden focus of the group. Ignatius, Tirn, and Esme were all watching her closely, waiting for her answer. The weight of their gaze made her uneasy, and her mind scrambled to recall any faces from the expedition camp. For a moment, doubt gnawed at her, but she shook it off and steadied her thoughts.

  “No,” she replied, her voice firm. “No one looked familiar to me. I didn’t recognize anyone.”

  Esme studied her for a long beat, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded slowly, the faintest trace of approval in her eyes. “Good,” she said, her tone indicating that she believed her. “That’s good to know.”

  The tension in the air eased just slightly, but Esme didn’t let her guard down completely. She glanced at the others, her brow furrowed as she considered their next move. “I think it would be wise to stay here for the night,” she suggested, her words careful, measured.

  The idea of resting after the grueling ordeal they had just endured brought a wave of mixed emotions over Elara. Relief washed through her at the thought of finally being able to rest, but an undercurrent of apprehension tempered it. The uncertainty of what lay ahead, coupled with the questions that still hung heavy in the air, left her feeling unsettled.

  The thought of resting after their grueling ordeal stirred a mix of emotions in Elara. Relief flooded her at the prospect of finally resting, but beneath it, a sense of unease lingered. The uncertainty of what lay ahead, along with the unresolved questions still hanging in the air, kept her on edge.

  She glanced at Ignatius and Tirn, hoping to read their reactions to Esme’s suggestion. Ignatius was quiet, his brow furrowed in thought.

  Tirn remained as unreadable as ever. His stoic expression gave nothing away, though the subtle nod he gave in response to Esme’s proposal showed at least tacit agreement.

  “Staying here makes sense,” Ignatius finally spoke, his voice low but resolute. “We’re all exhausted, and it’s smarter to wait until daylight.”

  Esme’s lips curled into a faint smile, though the seriousness in her gaze remained. “Alright then,” she said, meeting their eyes one by one. “Let’s rest. We’ll figure out our next move together.”

  Esme turned to Elara as Ignatius and Tirn walked off toward a tree near the previous expedition camp. A playful grin spread across her face, and she regarded Elara with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

  “So, here’s the thing,” she said, her voice casual. “We didn’t exactly come prepared for a sleepover. No tents, no sleeping bags, not even a fluffy pillow to rest our weary heads on.”

  Elara blinked, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “Oh,” she said, her mind already scrambling for a solution.

  Esme’s grin widened, and she draped an arm around Elara’s shoulders, pulling her in with a conspiratorial whisper. “But don’t worry, my dear Alira, you have options,” she said, her tone taking on an exaggerated flair. “Option one: you could go ask Selly if you could bunk with them. I’m sure they’d love the company.”

  Elara glanced over at Selly’s tent, considering the idea. It was tempting—warmth, shelter, a place to rest her head.

  But Esme wasn’t done. “Or,” she continued, her eyes dancing with mischief, “you could always join us for a little stargazing. Just you, me, Ignatius, and Tirn—huddled under the vast night sky.”

  Elara’s eyebrows shot up, her surprise evident. “Stargazing?” she repeated, unsure if Esme was joking or not.

  Esme nodded, her expression mock-serious. “Oh, yes. It’s a time-honored tradition among adventurers,” she said, her voice dripping with exaggerated sincerity. “Nothing quite like bonding with your fellow warriors while shivering in the cold, teeth chattering in perfect harmony.”

  A laugh bubbled up in Elara’s throat, and she shook her head in amusement. “That sounds... lovely,” she said, her tone dry but her smile genuine.

  Esme’s grin softened into something more sincere. “In all seriousness, though,” she said, her voice losing its teasing edge, “you’re more than welcome to join us. It might get a bit chilly, but we’ll keep each other warm. A little cuddling never hurt anyone, right?”

  Elara felt a warmth spread through her chest at the offer, a sense of belonging that she hadn’t expected to find in this group of strangers-turned-allies.

  She hesitated, her heart fluttering with uncertainty as she considered the prospect of sleeping so close to her new companions. The idea of such intimacy was unfamiliar, stirring a nervousness she hadn’t expected.

  But as she weighed the offer, memories of the last 24 hours flooded her mind. She recalled the strength in Isolde’s grip as she carried her to safety, the warmth in Tirn’s arms as he shielded her from danger. Each time, they had treated her with a respect and care that was both surprising and reassuring.

  The realization brought a soft smile to her lips, and the tension in her chest eased. The nerves that had fluttered inside her calmed as she looked up at Esme, her decision solidifying in her mind. “I think I’ll join you,” she said, her voice carrying a quiet resolve. “Stargazing sounds nice.”

  Esme’s grin broadened, her eyes lighting up with approval. She reached out, giving Elara’s shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Excellent choice,” she replied warmly, her tone filled with a sense of shared understanding.

  As they made their way toward the makeshift camp where Ignatius and Tirn were already at work, she found herself appreciating the simple, unspoken bond that had developed among them. The camaraderie that flowed so easily within the group was something she hadn’t realized she had been missing. The sense of belonging was new, fragile, but it settled into the spaces where loneliness had once lingered.

  The night air was cool, a soft breeze rustling the grass as the stars slowly emerged in the sky above. Elara took a deep breath, the fresh air easing her lingering hesitation.

  She watched Esme as she settled onto the makeshift bed that Tirn and Ignatius had carefully arranged. The spot they had chosen was well-protected, nestled against the sturdy trunk of a large tree. The grass and moss beneath formed a soft cushion, offering some warmth against the evening's chill. It was a simple arrangement, but there was something comforting about it—a quiet sense of security in the small, enclosed space they had created together.

  Esme began to remove her armor, her movements deliberate but weary. She glanced at Elara, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “Mind giving me a hand?” she asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

  She nodded, her heart quickening slightly. She wasn’t used to this kind of close interaction—the quiet intimacy of helping someone with something so personal. But there was something oddly soothing about it, too. She moved closer, following Esme’s instructions as she helped undo the straps and buckles.

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed Tirn methodically unfastening his weapon and pouches, his usual stoicism in place as he settled into the moment. Nearby, Ignatius was busy removing various items from beneath his robe—things Elara hadn’t even realized he was carrying. The group, usually so focused and guarded, seemed to collectively exhale, allowing themselves a rare moment of vulnerability.

  Once Esme’s armor was set aside, she turned to Elara, her eyes softening with a mix of gratitude and concern. “Need some help with yours?” she asked gently, noticing the slight hesitation in Elara’s movements.

  Elara nodded, feeling sheepish. Despite the battles they’d fought together, she was still getting the hang of managing her leather armor. “Yes, please,” she admitted, her voice softer than usual.

  “Come, sit in front of me,” Esme instructed, patting the spot on the grass. Elara complied, settling cross-legged in front of her. As Esme’s fingers worked on the buckles of her armor, Elara tried to focus, determined to memorize the process so she could manage it on her own next time. But her concentration wavered as she watched Esme’s hands—those strong, graceful fingers moving with practiced ease.

  There was something almost mesmerizing about the way Esme’s fingers moved—swift and sure, yet gentle as they worked. Elara found herself drawn to the contrast between the roughness of the leather and the smoothness of Esme’s touch. Her attention was caught by the inside of Esme’s hand—a paler shade than the rest of her grey skin. The difference was subtle but striking, and for a moment, Elara couldn’t help but be captivated by the detail. It made her wonder about the stories behind those hands—what they had built, what they had destroyed, what they had held and lost.

  Esme’s voice broke through Elara’s thoughts, soft but laced with curiosity. “You’re quiet tonight, Alira. Everything okay?” Her eyes flicked up to meet Elara’s with genuine concern.

  Elara blinked in surprise, not realizing how lost in thought she had become. “I’m… just thinking,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “About everything that’s happened… and what’s next.”

  Esme nodded, her expression one of understanding. “It’s been a long day,” she said, her tone comforting. “But you handled yourself well. You’ve got good instincts, Alira. Trust them.”

  Elara felt a warmth spread through her at Esme’s words, a mix of gratitude and something else she couldn’t quite name. “Thank you,” she murmured, feeling a bit more at ease.

  As Esme finished with the last of the buckles, she gave Elara’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “There you go. All set.”

  Elara offered a small, sincere smile. “Thanks, Esme. For everything.”

  Esme returned the smile, her eyes twinkling with a familiar, playful light. “Anytime. Now, let’s get some rest.”

  Elara slowly unbuckled her belt, feeling the weight of her weapon and pouches slip away as she placed them next to her armor. As the last of her protective layers fell to the ground, she became acutely aware of how exposed she felt. Her gaze flickered over to Esme, who had already settled down, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something softer, more tender.

  Esme noticed Elara’s hesitation and, without a word, extended her hand—a silent offer, perhaps, or maybe just an invitation to share in the intimacy of the moment. Elara hesitated, uncertain, but the warmth in Esme’s eyes gave her the reassurance she needed. She reached out, their fingers meeting and intertwining.

  Before Elara could process what was happening, Esme gave a playful tug, pulling Elara down beside her. Elara gasped, a startled sound escaping her lips as she suddenly found herself enveloped in Esme’s warmth. For a moment, the world tilted, and all she could feel was the softness of Esme’s body against hers, the steady rise and fall of her breathing. Esme’s laughter, rich and melodious, reverberated through her chest, making Elara’s heart skip a beat.

  “Easy there,” Esme chuckled, adjusting their positions so that Elara lay beside her instead of on top of her. The sudden closeness left Elara’s cheeks flushed, a blend of embarrassment and something else she couldn’t quite name. She found herself on her back, the cool grass a stark contrast to the heat of Esme’s body. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, a sea of stars glittering through the gaps in the leaves.

  Esme propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze fixed on Elara. There was a softness in her eyes, a kind of affection that made Elara’s chest tighten. Esme’s smile was gentle, reassuring—a wordless promise that everything was okay, that there was no need for armor or distance here.

  Before Elara could find her voice, a rustling nearby drew her attention. Tirn approached, his movements quiet and deliberate. He crouched down beside her, his presence as steady as ever. “May I lay beside you?” he asked, his voice low.

  Elara, still dazed by the unexpected intimacy with Esme, nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

  As Tirn lay down beside her, Elara felt the warmth radiating from him. It was almost overwhelming, the heat of his body stark against the cool night air. She instinctively leaned closer, drawn to the comforting cocoon of warmth he provided.

  Esme’s grin widened, as if she could sense Elara’s unspoken thoughts. Mischief danced in her eyes. On Tirn’s other side, Ignatius settled down with quiet ease.

  Elara let her gaze drift upwards once more, the stars above her forming a brilliant tapestry of light against the dark expanse of the sky. The sound of her companions’ breathing filled the space around her, their breaths merging into a harmonious rhythm that matched the steady beat of her heart. For the first time in what felt like forever, Elara felt a profound sense of peace. The weight of the day—the worries, the fears—seemed to melt away, leaving only the serene quiet of the night and the comforting presence of her friends.

  As the night deepened, Elara allowed herself to sink into the moment. Her eyes fluttered closed as she nestled between Esme and Tirn. Here, in this small, shared space, under the endless sky, she found something she hadn’t realized she was searching for—a sense of belonging.