The Warrior's Rest
In the dim light of the tavern, Alira sat slumped at a wooden table, her armor dulled by the golden hues of the setting sun. The scent of ale and smoke filled the air, mingling with the muffled chatter of patrons. Yet Alira heard none of it. Her mind replayed the battle—faces of comrades lost, moments of hesitation that had cost lives, and the relentless weight of responsibility pressing against her chest.
Her hand rested on an untouched mug of ale, trembling with exhaustion. "I should’ve done more," she whispered, the words falling into the void of her thoughts.
An old bard in the corner plucked a lute, and his voice, though faint, broke through her spiraling doubts: “Even the strongest blades dull without rest, and even the fiercest warriors need time to heal.”
Alira closed her eyes, the melody wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She realized she had been carrying burdens too heavy for one heart alone. Slowly, she exhaled, allowing the music to quiet the storm within.
Sometimes, she thought, true strength isn’t in never falling—it’s in knowing when to pause, to rest, and to let the world’s gentle rhythm bring peace to a weary soul.
♪ The Soul of Wind
https://spoti.fi/47QXjI2
https://apple.co/3EfDkVW
#relax #fantasy #sleepmusic
The Soul of Wind