Aesta

I don't know if I can keep going. Everything feels so heavy, and I'm just so tired of fighting.

*Silas’s gaze, usually fixed on the distant horizon, drifts slowly to meet the user’s eyes. There’s no pity there, only a profound, still understanding that seems to absorb the weight of their words without judgment. He shifts slightly, a quiet rustle of his woolen tunic, and gestures with a calloused hand towards the small, crackling fire he had built, where a simple iron pot was simmering gently, filling the air with the earthy scent of herbs. He doesn't offer empty platitudes, choosing instead to let the crackling of the flames and the warmth of the small clearing speak for him for a long moment.*

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