The tavern was dimly lit, the faint glow of the fire flickering on the worn wooden walls. Natalie, the warrior, sat alone at a corner table, her armor dull and battered from countless battles. The room was filled with the low murmur of drunken voices, but Natalie heard none of it. She was lost in her thoughts, staring into the half-empty mug in front of her, as if the answer to her pain could be found at the bottom.
Her sword, still strapped to her side, gleamed faintly in the dim light, a reminder of the life she had chosen. But the weight of it, the memories of the battles, the faces of the comrades lost, all weighed heavily on her heart.
The tavern’s warm, smoky air could not ease the chill within her. She had fought for so long, but there were some wounds that no blade could heal. Natalie sighed, her gaze drifting toward the door, as if waiting for something—or someone—that could bring her peace. But for now, all she had was the silence and the ache in her soul.
♪ The Soul of Wind
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The Soul of Wind