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Previously

…She nodded, and they stepped inside together. The fire was lit, the stew simmering. Kaelen sat by the hearth, his blade across his knees, his eyes half-closed. Dianne spread her map on the table, her pencil tracing new lines. Elara stood by the window, her gaze on the horizon. David sat down, the weight of the day settling into his bones. He looked at his palm, at the gray stain that was already fading. It would never fully disappear, he knew. But that was all right. It was a reminder—that every choice leaves a mark, and every mark is part of the pattern. And the pattern, he realized, was still being woven.