07: Spark in her eyes

JONAS POV

I felt a strange tingling in my spine as I walked into my tent. It was like a swarm of needles pricking my skin, warning me of the impending storm. I had prepared myself for a clash, a fierce struggle, but what I saw was something I did not expect.

She kneeled on the cold stone floor, her hands clasped in prayer. Her body was hunched over, her shoulders shaking slightly as she whispered pleas into the silence.

It was a scene I had not seen in ages, and it awakened a long-buried emotion in the depths of my soul. A touch of nostalgia, as I heard her whisper a prayer.

A prayer to the God who had forsaken us, the God who permitted our kind to be hunted and slaughtered. It was a prayer that stirred a long-forgotten emotion within me: pity.

“How utterly unbelievable,” I muttered.

I watched her rise, her movements as frantic as a frightened fawn. Her eyes, wide with fear, scanned the room. Yet, there was a spark—a glint of something indefinable—that piqued my interest.

It wasn’t