For one impossible heartbeat...
Time itself seemed to hold its breath.
No one moved.
The floating crystal lanterns drifted silently above the plaza.
The musicians stood frozen, instruments still raised.
Children stared with wide eyes.
The elders watched the Book hovering above the crystal table.
Even the underground waterfalls seemed quieter.
The living Book remained suspended in the air.
Its countless violet eyes blinked once.
Twice.
Then...
It snapped shut.
The pages settled.
The eyes closed.
Without another word, it floated gently downward before dropping into Qaritas's waiting hands.
Silence lingered.
Qaritas looked at the stitched cover.
"...Well?"
The Book said nothing.
"...Helpful."
Still nothing.
Across the table, Goro stared at it for another moment.
Then—
He laughed.
Not loudly.
Not enough to command attention.
Just enough to crack the silence.
"Well..."
He reached for another roasted crystal-root cake.
"...that certainly explains why it refused to tell me."
Several people blinked.
An elderly stone mason snorted.
Another laughed.
A woman across the plaza covered her mouth as a smile escaped her.
Then someone else laughed.
Children immediately forgot about the mysterious Book and returned to arguing over glowing sweets.
A little winged girl triumphantly stole the last Sunburst Orb from her brother before darting away.
He shouted after her.
She laughed harder.
The musicians exchanged uncertain looks.
One crystal flute cautiously resumed its melody.
A drum answered.
Then another.
Within moments the plaza breathed again.
Conversation returned.
The smell of roasted spices and flowering herbs drifted across the tables.
Someone somewhere began dancing again.
Yrtana refused to let fear steal a celebration.
Not tonight.
Not after bringing more people home alive.
Qaritas watched the city recover almost instantly.
No panic.
No frantic speculation.
Just...
Life.
As if everyone here had already decided long ago that tomorrow would bring enough hardship.
There was no reason to waste tonight.
He smiled despite himself.
Beside him, the bench shifted.
Goro sat down.
Without asking.
Without ceremony.
Without warning...
He reached over...
Picked up Qaritas's cup...
...and took a long drink.
Qaritas stared.
"...Did you just steal my drink?"
Goro swallowed thoughtfully.
"I did."
"...Why?"
"It looked refreshing."
"It was."
"It still is."
He took another sip.
Qaritas sighed dramatically.
"I'm beginning to notice a pattern."
"What pattern?"
"You keep stealing my things."
"I returned your life."
"...Fair point."
Goro smiled.
Then leaned back comfortably.
"Seems you're staying with us for a while."
Qaritas looked toward the Book resting quietly beneath his arm.
"...Apparently."
His eyes drifted across the plaza.
Children chased glowing insects between the tables.
Old veterans laughed over stories that had likely been repeated a thousand times.
Merchants argued over recipes.
Someone was trying to convince an enormous horned giant to dance.
The giant appeared deeply offended.
His granddaughter ignored him entirely and dragged him toward the musicians anyway.
Qaritas smiled.
Then looked back toward Goro.
"...Why ten years?"
The ancient serpent didn't answer immediately.
Instead...
He gestured toward the city.
"Look around."
Qaritas did.
Children.
Blacksmiths.
Farmers.
Hunters.
Teachers.
Old soldiers.
Craftsmen.
Healers.
Mothers carrying sleeping infants.
Entire families sharing food beneath floating lanterns.
Goro spoke quietly.
"They're mortals."
"They're weaker than gods."
"They live less than gods."
"They bleed."
"They fail."
"They die."
He watched a young apprentice accidentally drop an entire basket of glowing fruit.
Before it struck the ground—
Three strangers rushed forward to help gather it.
None of them seemed annoyed.
One simply laughed and handed the embarrassed boy another basket.
Goro continued.
"...They also accomplish things gods never could."
Qaritas frowned.
"Such as?"
Goro rested both forearms upon the table.
"Power teaches strength."
A pause.
"Mortality teaches wisdom."
The words settled gently between them.
Not like a lesson.
Like a memory.
Another pause followed before Goro smiled.
"Even gods come here to learn."
Qaritas blinked.
"...Really?"
Goro nodded.
"I was one of them."
Qaritas looked at him.
Then looked him up and down.
"You?"
"Yes."
"The serpent who just strangled an ancient hive intelligence?"
"The very same."
"You came here... to learn?"
"I did."
Qaritas laughed.
"I don't believe you."
"You should."
"You already knew how to fight."
"I knew how to kill."
Goro corrected him gently.
"Those are not the same thing."
The distinction lingered.
Qaritas became quiet.
Goro looked toward the children running through the plaza.
"I wasn't born knowing how to become a monster."
His golden eyes reflected dozens of crystal lanterns.
"I learned."
The warmth left his smile.
"So I made certain there would always be a place where others could learn without first becoming one."
For a long moment...
Neither of them spoke.
The music continued softly around them.
Children laughed somewhere behind Qaritas.
Someone cheered as the horned giant finally surrendered and began dancing.
The entire plaza applauded.
Goro watched it all with quiet satisfaction.
Then his attention returned to Qaritas.
"I will train you."
Qaritas nodded once.
"I figured that much."
"But only first."
"...Only first?"
"There are better teachers than me."
That answer surprised him.
"You?"
"I excel at making people survive."
A faint smile.
"Others excel at making them grow."
Goro began counting on one clawed finger.
"Morning."
"You will train with heroes."
Another finger.
"Afternoon."
"You will study."
"History."
"Languages."
"Medicine."
"Leadership."
"Strategy."
"Everything a commander should know."
Another finger.
"Evening."
"You will leave the city."
"Real missions."
"Real people."
"Real consequences."
"And every night..."
His golden eyes met Qaritas's.
"...you train with me."
Qaritas slowly leaned back.
"...Every day?"
"For thirty cycles."
"What happens after thirty?"
"Seven cycles of recovery."
"...Only seven?"
"Then thirty cycles of missions."
"...Again?"
"Again."
"And after that?"
"We repeat."
Qaritas stared at him.
For several long seconds.
Then...
He gave a low whistle.
"...That's insane."
Goro nodded.
"It is."
He didn't even attempt to deny it.
"The First Division wasn't built by talented people."
Silence.
"It was built by disciplined people."
Those words seemed to settle somewhere deep inside Qaritas.
Inside him—
Eon smiled.
Still stealing my speeches?
Goro didn't even blink.
"No."
He calmly reached for another slice of crystal-root cake.
"I stole them centuries ago."
Inside Qaritas—
Eon laughed.
An honest laugh.
One Qaritas hadn't heard in what felt like forever.
You remembered.
How could I forget?
Qaritas pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You two are impossible."
Goro and Eon answered simultaneously.
"We've been told."
Qaritas slowly looked upward toward the glowing cavern ceiling.
"...I'm surrounded."
Goro smiled.
"You've only just noticed?"
For the first time since entering the Third Universe...
Qaritas laughed without force.
Without exhaustion.
Without needing the moment to end.
It simply...
came naturally.
The laughter around them continued.
Someone somewhere had finally convinced the old horned veteran to dance.
He looked thoroughly miserable.
His granddaughter looked victorious.
Qaritas smiled.
Goro watched the plaza for another quiet moment before speaking again.
"You won't remain here forever."
Qaritas already knew that.
Nothing in his life ever lasted forever.
"When your time in Yrtana ends..."
"You leave."
"...Where?"
Goro's expression became thoughtful.
"You seek those who survived."
He raised one finger.
"Krsangawi."
"The last king who taught entire civilizations how to endure."
A second finger.
"Vaelrith."
"The one who proved mercy can terrify monsters more than cruelty."
A third.
"Aslvyr."
Qaritas couldn't help smiling.
"The old man."
"The old serpent."
"He'll correct you."
"I'm sure he will."
A fourth finger.
"Nhalyros."
"The only scholar I have ever met who could lose an argument with himself and still be correct."
Qaritas blinked.
"...What?"
"You'll understand."
"I somehow doubt that."
"You won't."
A fifth finger.
"Hly'Zouun."
The smile faded from Goro's face.
"The quietest among us."
"...And perhaps the strongest."
Qaritas frowned.
"I've never even heard of half of them."
"You weren't supposed to."
"They each teach something different."
"What?"
Goro shook his head.
"Not strength."
His golden eyes drifted toward the children racing between the lanterns.
"Perspective."
The word lingered.
"You'll learn courage from one."
"Humility from another."
"Patience."
"Sacrifice."
"Leadership."
"Hope."
He looked back toward Qaritas.
"When you've walked beside all of them..."
A pause.
"...you return."
Qaritas already knew the answer.
"...Then what?"
Goro's voice became almost impossibly calm.
"You lead."
The music seemed quieter.
"The First Division."
Another beat.
"Yrtana."
Another.
"The rebellion."
Another.
"The armies."
Silence settled between them.
Finally—
"...Against Yzer."
The name carried no hatred.
Only certainty.
Qaritas lowered his eyes.
His fingers tightened around the cup Goro had finally returned.
The celebration continued around them.
Children laughed.
Lanterns drifted.
Someone toasted another successful expedition.
None of it reached him.
Instead...
He remembered.
Hellbound.
Bone.
Chains.
The endless screams beneath the arena.
Ayla.
Smiling.
Laughing.
Reaching toward him.
Then...
Breaking.
Ecayrous.
That impossible smile.
Those static-filled eyes.
The certainty that suffering would never end.
He stared into the untouched drink.
"...That doesn't change anything."
The words were quiet.
Soft enough that only the people beside him heard them.
Conversation at the table faded.
Goro looked toward him.
Qaritas didn't raise his head.
"We killed a Fragment."
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"So what?"
His voice never rose.
"Ayla still suffered."
"The First Universe still suffers."
"The Second still suffers."
He swallowed.
"Every universe still suffers."
Finally...
He looked at Goro.
"So what difference did it make?"
Silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Just...
Honest.
No one rushed to answer.
No one tried to comfort him.
Even Eon remained quiet.
Because...
It was a fair question.
Goro rested both hands on the table.
He looked at Qaritas for a long moment.
Then...
"You're right."
The words surprised everyone.
Even Qaritas.
A long silence followed.
The music drifted softly through the plaza.
Children chased floating lights across the square.
Life continued.
As if giving them space to think.
Finally—
"One Fragment..."
He looked toward the glowing city beyond the plaza.
"...changes almost nothing."
Qaritas didn't interrupt.
Neither did anyone else.
Goro's golden eyes slowly returned to him.
"The one who kills them..."
Another pause.
"...changes everything."
Those words settled over the table like falling snow.
"Fragments aren't replaced."
"The people who defeat them..."
"...reshape history."
Qaritas frowned.
Goro leaned forward slightly.
"You aren't training to kill Yzer."
The sentence landed with surprising gentleness.
"You are training..."
His voice grew quieter still.
"...to become the man who survives after killing him."
Qaritas's breath caught.
Goro continued.
"Anyone can swing a weapn."
"Very few know what to do after the war ends."
His gaze drifted across the plaza.
"The people laughing tonight..."
"The children stealing desserts..."
"The families finally sleeping without fear..."
"They won't remember who struck the final blow."
"They'll remember who taught them how to live afterward."
His eyes met Qaritas's once more.
"That..."
"...is the harder victory."
Inside him—
Eon smiled.
Not because the words were new.
Because he remembered saying them himself.
Long ago.
To another frightened soldier.
Goro slowly stood.
He walked around the table until he stood before Qaritas.
"What are you—"
A clawed finger rested gently against Qaritas's forehead.
"Don't resist."
The world disappeared.
Not into darkness.
Into fragments.
—
A battlefield.
Ash falling like snow.
Adult Qaritas stood upon broken stone.
Older.
Scarred.
His silver cloak torn almost beyond recognition.
Yet...
He smiled.
—
Gone.
—
A woman stood beside him.
Long silver hair.
Eyes burning with impossible resolve.
Blood covered her armor.
Her smile was exhausted.
Victorious.
Xheavend.
Adult.
Alive.
—
Gone.
—
Goraxian.
Laughing.
Sword resting across one shoulder.
—
Gone.
—
A throne.
Impossible.
Ancient.
Hrolyn watched from above it.
His expression unreadable.
—
Gone.
—
An endless void.
Stars dying.
Universes folding inward.
Silence swallowing everything.
—
Gone.
—
A voice.
Warm.
Calm.
Familiar.
Eon's.
"Be a nobody."
Another fragment.
"And conquer empires anyway."
Light exploded.
Qaritas gasped.
The plaza returned.
The music.
The lanterns.
The smell of roasted food.
Children laughing.
He stumbled backward, catching himself against the table.
His breathing was uneven.
"...What..."
His voice barely existed.
"...was that?"
Goro lowered his hand.
"Nothing complete."
"Only possibilities."
He smiled faintly.
"The future doesn't belong to prophets."
"It belongs to the people stubborn enough to reach it."
Across the plaza, little Xheavend was laughing as another child accidentally smeared bright blue frosting across her nose.
She burst into giggles.
Qaritas looked at her.
Then remembered the woman standing beside him in that broken future.
For the first time...
He truly understood.
This child...
Would one day stand at the end of the world.
Qaritas sat in silence.
The broken visions still echoed somewhere behind his eyes.
Ash.
Blood.
An older Xheavend smiling beside him.
A future that refused to explain itself.
Slowly...
His gaze drifted across the plaza.
Little Xheavend sat cross-legged atop one of the stone benches, completely oblivious to the weight of destiny.
Bright blue frosting covered one cheek.
Another smear stretched across the bridge of her nose.
Somehow...
There was icing on her elbow.
She twisted her arm, tongue sticking out in concentration as she attempted to lick it off.
She failed.
Another child burst into laughter.
"So that's where it went!"
"I wasn't trying to put it there!"
"You absolutely were!"
"I wasn't!"
"You missed your mouth!"
"I know!"
She tried again.
Missed again.
Now there was frosting in her black hair.
The surrounding children dissolved into helpless giggles.
For a heartbeat she stared at them...
Then laughed louder than everyone else.
Her mismatched eyes—one crimson red, the other a brilliant pink—sparkled beneath the lantern light as she nearly fell off the bench laughing.
Qaritas couldn't stop watching.
"...This child..."
His voice never left his thoughts.
"...becomes that woman."
The woman who had stood at the end of the world...
Still smiling.
Still fighting.
"...I need another drink."
Someone immediately slid another mug into Qaritas's hand.
He didn't even look to see who.
He simply lifted it...
...and emptied nearly half of it in one swallow.
"Better?"
"No."
He took another drink.
"...Who invented this training?"
Goro smiled.
"You."
Qaritas stopped drinking.
"..."
He slowly lowered the mug.
"...Excuse me?"
"You."
"You recommended it."
"To Eon."
Silence.
Inside him—
Eon began laughing.
Not chuckling.
Not snickering.
Actually laughing.
You were unbelievably strict.
Qaritas blinked.
"...No."
Oh yes.
"No."
You once made recruits run while carrying mountains.
"...No."
You insisted it built character.
"It built crushed spines!"
Temporary crushed spines.
Qaritas stared into space.
"...You're lying."
Am I?
He turned toward Goro.
"...He's lying."
Goro looked genuinely thoughtful.
"No."
"..."
"You also required meditation beneath flowing lava."
Qaritas looked horrified.
"...There was?"
"There was."
"..."
"...Was there at least shade?"
"There was lava."
"..."
Qaritas leaned back in his chair.
Covered his face with both hands.
A long suffering sigh escaped him.
"I'm getting revenge..."
He pointed vaguely upward.
"...from myself."
Goro nodded sympathetically.
"It appears so."
Inside him—
Eon laughed even harder.
Tiny footsteps approached.
Qaritas lowered his hands.
Xheavend stood in front of them.
She still had frosting on her face.
No one had told her.
Her black hair was a complete disaster, several strands stuck together with bright blue icing.
Her red eye narrowed.
Her pink eye did exactly the same.
She folded both arms.
"When do I start?"
Goro looked down at her.
Then smiled.
He slowly knelt until they were eye level.
"You already have."
She blinked.
"I have?"
"You've been training since the moment you decided to keep asking questions."
"...That counts?"
"It counts the most."
She frowned.
"But... learning isn't fighting."
"No."
"It's harder."
She looked unconvinced.
Goro held up one finger.
"Reading."
Another.
"Writing."
Another.
"History."
Another.
"Discipline."
Another.
"Balance."
Another.
"Meditation."
Another.
"Control."
He lowered his hand.
"Combat..."
He smiled.
"...begins when you're fifteen."
Her entire face fell.
"Fifteen?"
"Fifteen."
"That's forever!"
"It feels that way."
"I'll be ancient!"
Qaritas laughed.
"You'll be ten soon."
"I'll be basically elderly."
The entire table burst into laughter.
Even Goro.
Even Eon.
One of the elderly women carrying food suddenly stopped walking.
"Oh!"
She looked toward Xheavend.
"Oh my goodness..."
"I nearly forgot."
She hurried away before anyone could ask why.
A minute later...
She returned pushing an enormous cake nearly half as tall as Xheavend herself.
The entire thing glowed softly beneath layers of shimmering crystal frosting.
Tiny edible flowers bloomed across every layer.
Candied fruits sparkled like little jewels.
Children immediately gasped.
"So big!"
"I want the flowers!"
"No, I want the shiny berries!"
"Don't touch it!"
Xheavend blinked.
"...Whose is that?"
The old woman looked genuinely offended.
"Yours, of course."
"...Mine?"
Goro stepped forward.
A warm smile spread across his face.
"Happy birthday, little lady."
Qaritas froze.
His heart skipped.
He remembered.
The conversation.
The date.
The promise he had made himself not to forget.
Today...
She turned ten.
Xheavend simply stared at the cake.
Then slowly looked around the plaza.
At everyone smiling.
At the children already gathering around her.
Finally...
She looked back at Goro.
"...How..."
Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.
"...did you know?"
She tilted her head, black hair falling across one eye.
"We only met today."
Goro chuckled softly.
"That's a secret."
She puffed out her cheeks.
"I don't like secrets."
"I know."
"So tell me."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because..."
He gently tapped the tip of her nose, leaving the tiniest smear of frosting there.
"...one day you'll discover the answer yourself."
She narrowed both mismatched eyes suspiciously.
"That sounds like something adults say when they don't want to answer."
Goro laughed.
"...Maybe."
She huffed dramatically.
"...Fine."
"But when I find out..."
"I'll remind you that you were annoying."
"I look forward to it."
For a long moment...
She simply stared at the cake.
Then, very quietly—
"...I forgot."
The words almost disappeared beneath the music.
"I forgot it was today."
No one spoke.
Her small shoulders trembled once.
Twice.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Then another.
She wasn't crying because of the cake.
She wasn't crying because of presents.
She wasn't crying because people were singing.
She cried because...
Someone remembered.
Someone had remembered her.
Without being told.
Without her asking.
Without her reminding anyone.
Goro gently rested a large hand atop her head.
"You deserve to be celebrated."
More tears slipped free.
Around them...
The musicians began playing a familiar melody.
One voice started singing.
Then another.
Soon...
The entire plaza joined in.
Hundreds of voices filled the crystal cavern.
"Happy birthday..."
Qaritas stood there awkwardly for several seconds.
"...Do we..."
The old baker beside him gave him a playful shove.
"Sing."
"I don't actually know—"
"Just follow everyone else."
"...Right."
He cleared his throat.
Completely off-key.
Entirely uncertain.
And joined them anyway.
Xheavend looked around at the sea of smiling faces.
Her hands pressed tightly against her mouth as tears continued to fall.
Yet this time...
She was smiling so brightly that it hurt to look away.
The singing slowly faded into warm applause.
Children immediately rushed toward the cake.
The old baker spent nearly a full minute swatting away impatient little hands.
"No."
"It's still the birthday girl's cake."
"But—"
"No."
"...Can I smell it?"
"You may smell it."
The child leaned in dramatically.
"Mmm..."
"Worth asking."
Laughter rippled through the plaza.
Xheavend wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic.
"...Thank you."
Her voice was still small.
Still shaky.
But happier than Qaritas had ever heard it.
Goro smiled.
"I have one more thing."
Her mismatched eyes widened.
"...Another cake?"
"No."
"...Two cakes?"
"No."
She gasped.
"...Three?"
Qaritas laughed.
"I admire your optimism."
Goro reached beneath the long wooden table.
For a moment...
Nothing happened.
Then he carefully lifted a long object wrapped in dark charcoal cloth.
It wasn't large.
Perhaps the length of Xheavend's arm.
The cloth itself shimmered faintly with silver runes that slowly drifted across the fabric like living ink.
Every conversation nearby gradually quieted.
The older heroes smiled knowingly.
Even the children instinctively backed away.
Goro knelt before her once more.
"This..."
He rested the bundle across both palms.
"...belongs to you."
Xheavend blinked.
"...Me?"
"You."
She looked around.
"I think you have the wrong child."
"I don't."
"I've never even held a real weapon."
"I know."
"I'm not strong."
"I know."
"I lose races."
"I know."
"I tripped over my own boots this morning."
"I know."
"...Twice."
"I heard."
A few nearby children snickered.
Xheavend puffed out her cheeks.
"It was a difficult morning."
"It certainly sounds like one."
She carefully accepted the wrapped object with both hands.
It was heavier than she expected.
"What is it?"
"A promise."
She frowned.
"...Promises are usually smaller."
Qaritas hid another laugh behind his drink.
Goro slowly unfolded the cloth.
Nestled within lay a beautiful weapon unlike anything Qaritas had ever seen.
Its dormant form resembled an elegant staff of polished obsidian wood threaded with veins of silver crystal. Ancient runes spiraled from one end to the other, glowing so faintly they looked almost asleep.
It was clearly crafted to change.
To grow.
To become something else.
Several somethings.
Xheavend stared in complete silence.
"...It's beautiful."
"It isn't finished."
She looked up.
"It will grow with you."
"When you do..."
"The weapon will."
Her fingers brushed the smooth surface.
"It has four forms."
"Four?"
Goro nodded.
"The first..."
"...when you're ready."
"The second..."
"...when you've earned it."
"The third..."
"...when you understand sacrifice."
He rested one claw gently over the final rune.
"And the fourth..."
His smile softened.
"...I hope you never have to awaken."
The plaza had become completely silent.
Even the children understood those words carried weight.
Xheavend looked back down at the weapon.
"...Why give this to me?"
She looked almost guilty.
"I'm just..."
She searched for the words.
"...me."
Goro's expression became impossibly gentle.
"Exactly."
A quiet breeze drifted through the crystal lanterns.
One by one, they swayed overhead.
He reached forward and lightly adjusted one loose strand of her black hair away from her red eye.
"Not because you're strong."
His golden eyes held hers.
"Because one day..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"...you're going to need it."
She didn't understand.
Not yet.
She simply hugged the wrapped weapon carefully against her chest.
"...I'll take good care of it."
"I know you will."
The silence lingered only a moment.
Then—
Someone struck a drum.
A crystal flute answered.
The musicians grinned.
"Enough crying!"
"She's ten!"
"Celebrate!"
The square erupted into music once again.
Children immediately grabbed one another's hands.
They spun in circles beneath floating lanterns.
Old soldiers who had once stood against monsters taller than mountains laughed as grandchildren dragged them toward the dancing.
"We're too old for this!"
"No you're not!"
"I absolutely am!"
"You said that last year!"
"...I did."
"And you danced anyway!"
"...Fine."
Heroes who had survived impossible wars joined them without hesitation.
Blacksmiths danced with healers.
Hunters danced with teachers.
Farmers danced with scholars.
For one precious evening...
There were no titles.
No legends.
Only people.
Goro rose to his feet as one of the elderly women seized his wrist.
"Oh no."
"I know that look."
"Come dance."
"I don't dance."
"You've been saying that for six thousand years."
"...Has it really been that long?"
"Longer."
Before he could object again...
She pulled him straight into the crowd.
The great serpent sighed in theatrical defeat.
"...I appear to have lost."
"You never had a chance."
Laughter followed him into the dancing.
Qaritas wisely remained seated.
"I've survived monsters."
He folded his arms.
"I'm not surviving dancing."
Too late.
"Qaritas!"
He looked up.
Xheavend stood before him, cake still smeared across one cheek, clutching her new weapon against her chest with one arm while extending her free hand.
"Dance."
He blinked.
"...I don't know how."
"I don't either."
"Then why are we dancing?"
"We'll both be bad."
"...That's not reassuring."
She grabbed his wrist anyway.
"No escape."
Before he could protest...
She tugged.
Hard.
He stumbled out of his chair.
Nearly tripped over his own boots.
Recovered.
Barely.
The children immediately noticed.
"He almost fell!"
"He definitely almost fell!"
"I did not."
"You did!"
"I absolutely recovered."
"After almost falling!"
The plaza erupted with laughter.
Qaritas rubbed the back of his neck.
"...This is humiliating."
"It gets worse."
"It gets worse?"
"You haven't started dancing yet."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
Xheavend took both his hands.
"Just copy me."
She took one step.
He took the opposite one.
She stepped left.
He stepped right.
Their feet collided.
"Ow!"
"Sorry!"
"No, that's my foot!"
"I know!"
"It still hurts!"
The children were laughing so hard some had fallen onto the grass.
Even Goro couldn't contain himself anymore.
The mighty Captain of the First Division leaned against another hero, laughing openly as Qaritas somehow managed to make dancing resemble combat training.
"I think..."
Goro managed between laughs.
"...he's fighting the music."
"It started first!"
Qaritas defended.
"That's not how music works!"
"It attacked me!"
"It played a flute!"
"I felt threatened!"
Even the musicians were laughing too hard to continue for a few moments.
Inside him...
Eon watched.
He said nothing.
No teasing.
No advice.
No sarcasm.
He simply watched.
Watched Qaritas laugh without forcing it.
Watched little Xheavend spin beneath the lanterns, black hair flying around her, one crimson eye and one pink eye shining with joy, birthday cake still smeared across her face.
Watched Goro laugh like the burden of centuries had vanished for a single night.
The First Division...
Together again.
Not complete.
Not yet.
But together.
For the first time in longer than memory...
It felt like home.
And for one beautiful evening...
No one thought about tomorrow.