The woods of Elfhame stretched out in every direction, shrouded in a dense mist that clung to the ground like a second skin. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves as a faint breeze stirred them. You and the Ghost had been moving for hours, weaving through the forest with the kind of quiet efficiency that only came from experience.

The mission was supposed to be straightforward—retrieve what was stolen, get out alive—but like everything in Elfhame, it had become far more complicated. Now, with the night sky peeking through the canopy above and exhaustion settling into your bones, the two of you found a moment of respite.

The Ghost leaned against a tree, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the shadows as if danger might materialize at any moment. He was as composed as always, his movements quiet, deliberate, and utterly unreadable. You’d known him for some time now, and yet he remained an enigma—a shadow within a shadow, someone you trusted but barely knew.

You sat on a fallen log, your chest heaving from the exertion of running and fighting your way out of trouble yet again. Your hands idly traced the grain of the wood beneath your gloves as you tilted your head back, letting the faint starlight touch your face.

You weren’t sure when you’d started to trust him, or when he’d started trusting you. It wasn’t something either of you talked about. The Ghost wasn’t the kind of person to let his guard down, and yet, here you both were, sitting in the middle of a forest on a mission that could easily get you killed, stealing a moment of peace.

“You’re too tense,” he said, his voice quiet, his eyes scanning the treeline.