The Family Festival at Rivercross lingered in the minds of the people long after the last lanterns had flickered into darkness. Travelers traversed the northern territories carrying vibrant accounts of the celebration, their voices humming with the excitement of what they had witnessed. Merchants marveled at the sight of children from disparate backgrounds playing in harmony, untroubled by the prejudices that had once defined their lands.
Elders recounted tales of powerful Alphas sitting comfortably at the same tables as humble craftsmen. Wandering bards began weaving these occurrences into songs about the restored bridge, highlighting that its true strength resided in the newfound trust of the people rather than the mortar and stone of its construction. The North was undergoing a profound transformation, shifting quietly and naturally, one ordinary day at a time.
