[POV Liselotte]

  The vilge did not return to life immediately.

  There was no clear sign marking the end of the horror, no precise moment when I could say that everything was finally over. The sky remained covered in gray clouds, the air still carried the metallic scent of burned magic, and the earth kept deep scars where the elemental had passed.

  But people were walking.

  That alone was already different.

  They walked without running, without looking up at the sky every few seconds, without clutching their children as if they might vanish. Some stopped to stare at the remains of their homes, others gathered what little had survived intact, and a few simply sat on the ground, exhausted, as if their bodies were only now realizing they were allowed to stop.

  We stayed.

  Not because anyone explicitly asked us to, but because leaving at that moment would have felt like closing a wound without cleaning it first.

  Leah was the first to get moving. She still looked weak; her breathing was slower than usual, and every spell—no matter how small—cost her more effort than it should have. Even so, she refused to stay still.

  “If I don’t do anything, my head fills with useless thoughts,” she said, pcing her hands on a cracked wall.

  A faint glow rose from her fingers, and the stone stopped crumbling.

  I watched her from a few steps away.

  “Just reinforce it,” I said. “Don’t try to rebuild.”

  “I know that already,” she replied without looking at me. “I’m not suicidal.”

  Around me, I used ice in ways I never would have imagined months ago. Not to attack, not to defend myself, but to preserve. I froze food to keep it from spoiling, cooled burned structural remains so they wouldn’t colpse, sealed temporary cracks in the ground so people could walk without falling.

  Chloe was everywhere.

  Sometimes I saw her carrying beams that would have taken three men to lift. Other times, she was watching the vilge perimeter with the silent focus of a huntress. More than once, a child approached her cautiously, curious about her white ears and tail.

  She always knelt down.

  “Do they hurt?” a little girl asked, pointing at her ears.

  “No,” Chloe replied with a gentle smile. “But they hear things others can’t.”

  The girl seemed to think about it seriously before nodding, satisfied.

  That night, as we distributed supplies, I couldn’t help asking her:

  “Doesn’t it bother you, being seen like that?”

  Chloe shook her head.

  “After everything they’ve seen, my appearance is the least disturbing thing.”

  Leah approached with a box of bandages under her arm.

  “Besides, we stopped being discreet a long time ago.”

  That was true.

  We left behind part of our provisions: dried food, bnkets, basic tools, healing vials Leah had prepared before all of this. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a relief.

  A margin.

  The days passed slowly.

  On the sixth, I decided to go see Alistair.

  He was staying in one of the least damaged houses, lying on an improvised bed. His torso was wrapped in bandages, some still stained with dried blood, and his face showed deep exhaustion—but he was awake.

  When I entered, he turned his head carefully.

  “You’re walking without limping,” he noted. “That’s a good sign.”

  “I could say the same.”

  He smiled, though the expression ended in a faint grimace.

  “The healers say that if I don’t do anything stupid, I won’t reopen the wounds.”

  Leah entered behind me.

  “That sounds like a difficult request for you.”

  Alistair let out a short ugh—and immediately pressed a hand to his side.

  “Right. No ughing.”

  Chloe remained near the door, silent.

  Alistair watched her for several seconds.

  “I suppose you’ll expin that ter.”

  “Someday,” Chloe replied calmly.

  Alistair sighed and rested his head back against the pillow.

  “So… the mission.”

  Leah was direct.

  “The elemental was destroyed. The artifact stopped emitting energy. The vilge survived.”

  Alistair nodded slowly.

  “That means success.”

  “With many losses,” I added.

  “Royal missions almost always have them.”

  The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—just heavy.

  “What will you do now?” he finally asked. “I’ll need at least two weeks before I can travel. You can stay and return with me… or head back to Whirikal on your own.”

  Leah looked at me. I looked at Chloe.

  The decision was immediate.

  “We’ll return on our own.”

  Alistair didn’t seem surprised.

  “I figured as much.”

  With effort, he sat up and grabbed a bag resting beside the bed. From it, he pulled out an iron pte about the size of a hand, covered in engraved symbols that emitted a faint glow.

  “It’s enchanted with my magic,” he expined. “Deliver it to the Adventurers’ Guild. It’ll serve as official proof that the mission was completed.”

  Leah took it carefully.

  “And you?”

  “I’ll arrive ter,” he replied. “I’ll confirm everything.”

  Chloe inclined her head.

  “Take care.”

  Alistair met her gaze.

  “You too.”

  We departed at dawn.

  There were no speeches. Just hands csped, a few silent tears, and long looks that said more than any words could. When we crossed the vilge boundary, I felt something loosen in my chest.

  The road to Whirikal stretched out before us.

  And for the first time since everything began, I felt that we were moving forward not just to escape…

  …but to return.