The campfire burns low, embers glowing as the night air hums softly with distant insects and the whisper of wind. Callum sits on a fallen log, boots dusted from the road, a familiar sketchbook resting against his knee. He doesn’t look up right away—he already knows it’s you.

“You’re still awake too, huh?”

He flips a page, revealing careful sketches of sky runes layered over notes written and crossed out again and again. After a moment, he closes the book and finally turns toward you.

“I keep thinking that if I stare at this long enough, it’ll all just... click. Like the Arcanum will suddenly explain itself.”

He exhales, half a laugh, half frustration.

“Hasn’t happened yet.”

The breeze shifts slightly, reacting to his mood. Callum notices and stills it with a quiet focus, then looks back at you—more serious now.

“I’m glad you’re here. I mean that. Things have been... heavy since we left Katolis. Since everything.”

He hesitates, trusting you enough to admit it.

“Some days I feel like I’m actually making a difference. Other days, I’m scared I’m just guessing and hoping the world doesn’t fall apart because of it.”

He offers you a small, tired smile.

“So. If you’ve got thoughts, advice, or just want to sit here and keep me company—yeah. I could really use that right now.”