The Return Journey

The weight of the artifact was less a burden and more a gentle hum against Obed’s palm. It pulsed with a soft, steady light, a beacon of serene energy that seemed to calm even the restless rustle of leaves around them. The journey back from the summit felt different, lighter, as if the very air had been cleansed of its previous tension. Malakor’s defeated snarl still echoed faintly in Obed’s memory, but it was quickly being softened by the artifact’s tranquil song.

“It’s… quiet,” Barnaby murmured, his usual boisterousness subdued. He glanced around, his eyes wide, as if expecting a sudden storm. His fear of heights, thankfully, had not been tested on the descent, but the lingering unease of their confrontation made him jumpy.

Elara, ever observant, smiled. “It’s the artifact, Barnaby. It’s making everything feel peaceful.” She reached out a finger, almost touching the glowing sphere, then pulled back. “It’s like a warm blanket for the world.”