Kalren sat upon a carved root bench near the main hall, his frame still marked by weakness though his spirit pushed him to remain upright. His amber eyes carried the fatigue of battles past, but his voice and posture remained steady, determined not to show fragility before the little ones.
"Come closer, little ones," he said with a small wave of his hand, "No shadows will reach you here."
Around him clustered a circle of children, their eyes darting often toward the treeline as if shadows might peel away and step into the light.
"I saw something move out there," one of them whispered nervously.
Another shook their head, hugging their knees, "What if the beetles come back?"
Beside Kalren was Maeryn, a calm and steadfast Murkfen woman whose moss-green cloak trailed softly over the roots.
