Caethel

From her post high on the cliff, Luthelian watched the fire in the camp crackle against the wood, throwing its heat across the sleeping figures. Some paces away, she saw Tancamir standing watch over the frozen lake and beyond. Her eyes followed his back more often than she would have liked since his return.

A dark shadow of fury sat perched in Luthelian's usual seat amongst the eaves above her sister's workbench. The sound of hammers beating against the anvil chimed the impending hour when the shadow would rise from its place as a raging inferno. Though her caramel hair lay straight and delicately around her face in the semblance of peace, the tight knit of her brows and the furious scratching of her quill betrayed her tempestuous mood.