The setting sun cast its final rays through the thin wooden slats of the barn, painting the hay-strewn floor in hues of gold and amber. Raelyn sat quietly, her back against a wooden post as she watched the light fade into dusk. Rakz was curled at her feet, his warm scales pressing against her leg, a comforting weight amid the encroaching shadows. Outside, the distant clucking of chickens and the faint sound of the farmer shutting her coop for the night marked the end of another day. The soft orange glow gave way to a deepening blue, the shadows creeping further into their makeshift shelter.

Corix sat cross-legged near the faint glow of a lantern, his eyes closed, lips moving faintly in silent meditation. His spellbook lay open before him, the intricate glyphs on the pages catching the flickering light. Across the barn, Hovan adjusted the straps on his boots, his movements brisk and purposeful, his jaw set in the impatient line Raelyn had come to recognize all too well.

"We can't stay holed up here forever," Hovan muttered, breaking the quiet that had stretched between them for hours. He tugged the strap of his boot with more force than necessary and shot a look toward Corix. "We've been waiting all day. How much longer are we supposed to wait for them to make up their minds?"

Corix opened his eyes, his expression calm but resolute. He straightened, the glow of the lantern casting sharp shadows across his face. "As long as it takes," he said evenly. "The elves don't rush decisions. If we press them, we'll only push them further away."

Hovan let out a derisive snort, running a hand through his dark mohawk. "And what if they don't respond at all? What then? We'll be sitting ducks out here. Or have you forgotten there are demons out there hunting us?"

"Enough," Corix said, his tone sharp enough to give Hovan pause. "Trust in their process. The elves are cautious, yes, but they are also wise. If they choose to help us, it will be worth the wait."

Raelyn pulled her knees to her chest, glancing between the two men as the tension in the barn thickened like the mist outside. She hated the uncertainty of their situation, the nagging fear that every creak of the barn's wooden frame or rustle of leaves outside heralded danger.

"Maybe Hovan's right," she said hesitantly, her voice breaking the silence. "What if the elves don't respond? What if they've already decided and just didn't bother to tell us?"

"They will respond," Corix said firmly, his gaze softening as it landed on her. "They don't take matters like this lightly, Raelyn. If they've chosen to deliberate, it means they're considering the request carefully. That's more than we could have hoped for."

Hovan shook his head, pacing a few steps before leaning against the barn wall, arms crossed. "And if their answer is no? What then, Corix? You have some grand plan I don't know about?"

Corix met his gaze evenly. "If their answer is no, we'll find another way. We have to."

The silence stretched again, broken only by the occasional shuffle of Rakz as he shifted his position, curling tighter against Raelyn's side. She absently ran her fingers over his smooth scales, finding a faint comfort in his presence.

"I'll see if the farmer can prepare us some food," Corix said after a moment, rising to his feet and brushing hay from his robes. "A hot meal might do us some good."

Hovan raised an eyebrow. "The same farmer who glared at me like I was going to steal her chickens?"

"She'll take coin," Corix replied, grabbing his satchel. "That much was clear. A few riyans should be enough to earn us a plate."

Hovan let out a low chuckle. "I'll give her this—she's got the sense to be wary of strangers."

Raelyn watched him leave, the barn door creaking softly as it swung shut behind him. The light inside seemed dimmer without Corix's presence, the shadows stretching further into the corners of the barn. She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the memory of the night before creeping back into her mind. The sensation of being watched, the strange shifting of the shadows—was it real, or just her imagination?

"You alright?" Hovan's voice drew her attention. He had stepped closer, his stern gaze softened slightly with concern.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just tired."

Hovan grunted, taking a seat on a nearby bale of hay. "We all are. But you've got to keep your wits about you. No room for second-guessing out here." He nodded toward Rakz, who raised his head briefly at the sound of his voice. "At least he seems relaxed. Means you're doing something right."

Raelyn managed a small smile, though the unease in her chest lingered. She stroked Rakz's head, her fingers brushing over the ridges of his scales. "I just hope we're not making a mistake in staying here so long. Out in the open." she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Hovan didn't reply immediately. Instead, he leaned back, staring at the rafters above. "Mistakes are part of the game, Raelyn. The trick is surviving them long enough to fix 'em."

Within the hour, the group was seated around a modest meal of hearty stew, fresh bread, and roasted vegetables. The farmer's kitchen was rustic but clean, its worn wooden table laden with simple clay dishes. The stew's rich aroma filled the small space, mingling with the faint scent of herbs drying in bundles above the hearth. A single lantern hung from a hook in the ceiling, its soft light casting a warm glow over the meal.

Raelyn cradled her bowl, the steam curling upward as she stared into the dark broth. The chunks of root vegetables and tender bits of meat brought a sense of warmth she hadn't felt in days. She stirred the stew absently with her spoon, her thoughts drifting.

"This is the last place I expected to find us," she murmured, her voice quiet. She set her spoon down, her gaze distant. "Hiding in a barn, waiting for strangers to decide if we're worth their time."

Corix looked up from his bowl. "It's not ideal, but it's necessary."

Raelyn's chest tightened as her thoughts wandered back to Ardesco—its grand halls, the gentle hum of magic in the air, the quiet safety she'd once taken for granted. Now it was gone, reduced to ash and rubble, its defenders scattered or worse. She pushed the thoughts aside, lifting her spoon to take a small sip of the stew. It was rich and earthy, the warmth spreading through her chest like a balm against the lingering cold.

"You'll get used to the unexpected," Hovan said, his tone softer than usual. He tore a piece of bread in half, his rough hands making quick work of it. "Life has a way of throwing things at you when you're least prepared. You have to learn to roll with the punches."

Raelyn glanced at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. "You make it sound so easy."

Hovan's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's not. But you adapt, or you don't survive. Simple as that."

Rakz sat near Raelyn's feet, tearing into a scrap of roasted meat she had tossed him earlier. His tail swayed contentedly, the rhythmic motion a rare moment of levity amid the tension. Raelyn watched him for a moment, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the weight on her mind.

Corix broke the silence, his voice thoughtful. "It's a strange thing," he said, setting his bowl down. "Trust. The elves guard their borders fiercely, yet they agreed to hear our request—or at least consider it. That alone is more than most outsiders are afforded."

Hovan huffed, leaning back in his chair. "Assuming they don't take two more days to make up their minds. We don't have the luxury of time, Corix."

"I know that," Corix replied evenly. "But patience is our only option right now. If we force their hand, we'll lose any chance we have of gaining their help."

Raelyn nodded, her fingers curling instinctively around the locket beneath her robes. Its warmth was a small comfort, but it did little to quiet the gnawing fear at the edges of her mind. She glanced at Rakz, who had finished his meal and was now resting his head on his front claws, his golden eyes watching her with a calm, steady gaze. The sight brought her a small measure of peace, though it felt fragile, like a flame struggling against the wind.

The farmer entered the room briefly to collect their empty bowls, her stern expression softening ever so slightly as she nodded to Corix. "If you're done, the barn's waiting," she said, her tone brisk but not unkind. "Best get some rest while you can."

Hovan offered her a quiet thanks, standing and stretching his arms over his head. "We'll take what we can get." he muttered, his voice low.

Raelyn followed the others out into the cool night air, Rakz padding at her heels. The stars above were faint, their light barely visible through the haze of mist that clung to the fields. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as they made their way back to the barn, the warmth of the stew doing little to chase away the chill that had settled in her bones.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of crimson and gold before darkness swallowed the farm. A familiar unease began to creep over Raelyn as the light faded.

Rakz was restless. The small companion shifted from one spot to another, his tail swiping the ground in slow, deliberate movements. His golden eyes darted toward the darker corners of the barn, pupils narrowing as if he sensed something just beyond sight.

Raelyn tried to shake off the sensation that clung to her. She told herself it was just her imagination playing tricks, the lingering remnants of her fear from that night at Ardesco. Even so, her hand strayed to the locket beneath her robes, clutching it tightly. Its faint warmth did little to calm her nerves.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and fixed her gaze on the flickering lantern that cast faint light over their makeshift camp. The flame wavered slightly, sending shadows dancing along the barn's wooden beams. Each flicker seemed to deepen the sense of something lurking just out of reach.

"Something wrong?" Hovan's voice broke through her thoughts. He was seated on a bale of hay, his sword resting across his knees as he sharpened the blade with slow, practiced strokes.

"No," Raelyn replied quickly, her voice higher than she intended. She cleared her throat and tried again. "It's nothing. I just... I don't like the dark."

Hovan glanced at her, his brown eyes thoughtful before he grunted. "You've got nothing to fear here. I'll keep watch tonight," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Hovan's right," Corix said. "Get some rest, Raelyn. Tomorrow may bring answers—or challenges." His voice was calm, but there was a weight to his words that only deepened her unease.

Rakz let out a low growl, his head snapping toward one of the shadowed corners of the barn. Raelyn followed his gaze, her heart quickening. The lantern's glow didn't reach far enough to reveal anything, only the suggestion of movement at the edge of the light. She gripped the locket tighter, willing the sensation to pass.

"See? Even Rakz is jumpy," she said, trying to sound lighthearted, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her unease.

Hovan shot a glance toward the corner, his hand instinctively moving to his sword's hilt. He studied the shadows for a long moment before shaking his head. "It's just the wind," he muttered, though his grip didn't relax entirely.

Raelyn nodded and pulled her bedroll closer to Rakz, settling in beside her scaled friend. His body radiated a comforting warmth, and she reached down to scratch the top of his head. "It's alright, boy," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or herself.

Despite their reassurances, sleep didn't come easily. Raelyn lay awake, staring at the rafters above as the shadows seemed to shift and writhe at the edges of her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to rest, but the sensation of unseen eyes watching her refused to fade.

When she finally drifted off, her dreams were restless and fragmented, filled with dark shapes slipping through the corners of her mind. Rakz's occasional growls punctuated the night, a low and steady reminder that the darkness was never as empty as it seemed.