The corridors of Frosthold were quieter now, the frantic energy of the battle's aftermath finally beginning to settle. The wounded had been tended to, the dead counted, and the survivors given food and blankets and places to rest. The healers moved among the pallets with quiet efficiency, their hands glowing with soft, green-tinged mending magics. Servants distributed bread and broth to those who could eat. Children separated from their parents during the chaos were reuniting one by one, their cries of relief echoing through the stone halls.
I walked among them, my steps slow, my body still trembling with exhaustion. The ember in my chest was dark, a memory of what it had been. I had nothing left to give, no light to offer, no healing to share. But I could witness. I could remember. I could be present.
