Bener's shoulders sagged as his gaze lingered on Shaya, sorrow clouding his eyes. There was a heaviness in his chest he could not shake—the silent wish that she would stay by his side. But the words he wanted to speak remained trapped in his throat, weighted by pride and fear.
"Why would you want to join the campaign againes Estalis?" His voice cracked, a raw edge of worry slipping through. "Isn't it dangerous?"
Shaya's eyes, bright with quiet determination, did not waver. "I want to tend to the wounded," she said softly. "We can also cook for the soldiers."
Bener shook his head, frustration tightening his features. "But the Phoenix Legion already has trained soldiers to handle wounds and injuries. There's no need for you to risk yourself."
She met his protest with calm defiance. "And if those same healers must fight, who will care for the fallen? Someone has to."
