Elowen’s POV
The unspoken tension from breakfast clung to the air as we made our way to the training grounds. The usual camaraderie felt muted, replaced by a subtle awareness of the shift in our dynamic. Alaric walked beside me, his presence a solid, comforting weight, our hands occasionally brushing against each other, a silent reassurance passing between us. Theron walked slightly ahead with Ranon, their conversation low and serious, their usual banter absent.
The training yard, usually a place of vibrant energy and playful sparring, felt subdued. Even the younger trainees seemed to sense the undercurrent of unease, their movements less boisterous, their laughter less frequent.
We paired off as usual. Alaric and I found ourselves facing each other, the familiar rhythm of our movements a comforting anchor amidst the lingering awkwardness. His gaze, though intense, held a tenderness that hadn't been there before, a silent acknowledgment of the intimacy we now shared. Our practice was
