When the sun had chased away the lingering shadows of dawn, Shaya bade Netser goodbye. She was needed in the infirmary, where the remaining wounded soldiers awaited her skilled hands.
Netser's gaze lingered on her retreating figure, reluctant to let her go. His lips parted as if to call her back, but no words came. Instead, he watched until she vanished from sight, leaving him with an ache he could not name.
With a reluctant sigh, he turned toward the training ground. Tomorrow, the Phoenix Legion would march toward Estalis, and already the men moved with taut nerves and restless energy.
