The first rays of dawn crept over the jagged ridges of the demon world, painting the cliffs in hues of violet and crimson. The air was cool, sharp — every breath carried the metallic tang of the land's mana. Down in the secluded clearing where they had trained the night before, embers from the campfire still glowed faintly, crackling in the quiet.
Luna stirred awake first. She blinked against the dim light, realizing she had fallen asleep beneath the stars again — her cloak half-draped over her, the grass cool beneath her skin. When she turned, Orpheus was already awake, sitting cross-legged by the fire, his sword laid across his lap, his gaze lost somewhere beyond the horizon.
He hadn't slept. He rarely did.
"Morning…" Luna mumbled, stretching.
"You've been up long?"
"Long enough," he said without looking. His tone was calm, unreadable — though she had come to recognize the faint edge in his voice that meant training was coming.
