In the dead silence, accompanied by the orange glow from a campfire in the dark, Hide sat cross-legged on the scorched earth, staring into the dancing flames.
A few feet away, lying on thick patches of grass, were Evelyn, Claire, and Rol. All three were completely unconscious, their breathing was steady and deep.
Hide had given a recovery potion to each of them, stabilizing their physical condition. They just needed time to rest.
Directly behind Hide, standing like a silent, towering statue of dark metal, was Zenith. The phantom soldier's hollow eyes scanned the pitch-black perimeter of the dead trees, standing absolute watch over the survivors.
To his right, sitting with her knees pulled tightly to her chest, was Elara.
She wasn't looking at the fire. She was staring at a fresh mound of dirt a few steps away. At the head of the mound, a heavy, jagged slab of bedrock had been driven deep into the ground.
