The adrenaline from the arena still lingered in the air like the fading hum of a struck bell. Khael and the rest of Team 9 alongside Noah were making their way down the stone path that curved through the training grounds, boots crunching over scattered petals from Kirell's Bloom Affinity.

They hadn't gotten far before a tall figure stepped into their path.

\\White hair like ash-struck snow.

Burnt-silver eyes that seemed to weigh and measure everything in a single glance.

"Oh come on… I just got here today," Solen Drayvahn said, voice dripping with mock disappointment.

Ceyla crossed her arms, still sore from her match but unable to hide her smirk. "It's your fault for being late."

Solen staggered back theatrically, clutching his chest as if struck. "Aurhg, it hurts…" He

sank to one knee in mock agony, drawing an eye-roll from half the group.

Khael just sighed, shifting his pack on his shoulder. The sound was almost drowned out by

Elder Lao's calm, deliberate voice from behind them.

"You can stay here for one night," the old man said. "We are going to the reception today. A lot of food will be there."

The word food seemed to light up Solen's entire face.

"Really? Really?!" He straightened instantly, all traces of "wounded pride" gone as his eyes gleamed like a kid seeing candy for the first time.

Noah chuckled quietly, muttering under his breath, "Guess we found his real motivation…"

The group started walking again, the tense, electric atmosphere from earlier slowly giving way to a warm, expectant buzz. Somewhere ahead, the faint sound of music and laughter drifted from the reception hall, carrying the scent of grilled meats and sweet bread on the wind.

…

After minutes

The reception hall of Vernara glowed with warm lanternlight, the walls strung with flowering vines and banners painted in deep green and gold. The air was thick with the scents of roasted game, spiced roots, and sweet berry wine. Outside, the night winds rattled through the leaves, but inside the village's heart, laughter and music drowned out the memory of battle.

Villagers crowded the long tables, their faces bright with relief and gratitude. When Team 9 entered, the murmur rose to a cheer applause echoing off the wooden beams overhead. The rebels, once scorned in hushed whispers, now sat side by side with farmers and artisans, their names spoken with pride thanks to Raiquen and Eliryn's sacrifice. The elders had made sure of it by framing the rebels' deeds as heroism, they had removed the sting of criticism before it could spread.

At the front, the four elders of Vernara presided like quiet pillars.

Elder Lao, head of the village, leaned lightly on his gnarled staff, offering a calm nod to each guest.

Elder Twe, hunched yet sharp-eyed, scanned the hall like a hawk surveying a field.

Elder Loe, her face hidden beneath a sheer veil, stood silent as the wind threading through the rafters ever present, ever watching.

Elder Mia, robed in silver-blue, fingers resting on prayer seals, radiated a serenity that tempered the hall's energy.

Near them stood the Shadow Guards Ko in a defensive stance that never wavered, Li beside him like a mirrored shadow, both scanning the crowd for any spark of trouble.

The rebels occupied a corner table Less from exile than habit.

Braggen Mossvale sat like a living fortress, cracking his knuckles, the bark of his skin creaking with the sound of splitting wood.

Kirell Shadepetal crouched beside him, one arm draped casually over her knee, her silver dagger resting on the table's edge as she traded sharp remarks with Sil Vorrun.

Sil Vorrun, lean and lazy-eyed, twirled a fork between his fingers, the very image of someone pretending not to care.

Therys Nolemire, The Bloom That Hungered, pale and smiling faintly, seemed more like a ghost haunting the edge of the celebration than a guest.

In another section of the hall, Noah Matsuda, the Bloom Clan emissary—and, by his own begrudging admission, a certified coward—sat nursing a mug of something he clearly wished was stronger.

Team 9 found their seats together, though each carried the weight of the day in different ways.

Juno Arkai, the Affinity-less Taishin Gate prodigy, still had bandages under his tunic but met every villager's handshake with steady eyes.

Ceyla Nox, wolf-cut hair tousled, leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed, her smirk daring anyone to comment on the faint cut still healing on her cheek.

Khael Corzedar, his Wind Affinity on display and everything else carefully hidden, smiled politely at anyone who approached every gesture measured to keep his true nature in the dark.

And last, their sensei Solen Drayvahn, who had somehow already secured a plate piled higher than anyone else's, grinned like the evening was his personal holiday.

At the far wall, Lin, the mute girl, stood quietly with a plate in hand, her glowing Shinrei glyphs dancing faintly at her fingertips as she pointed toward the musicians. Khael, reading the shapes of her signs, chuckled and patted her head. "Yeah… you just want to watch, huh?"

The hall hummed with clinking cups, bursts of laughter, and the deep, steady beat of drums. Outside, Vernara was a village in recovery but tonight, within these walls, it was a village celebrating survival.

Plates clattered as more food was brought out steaming roasts, trays of fresh bread still soft in the center, bowls of pickled roots, and pitchers of berry wine passed from hand to hand.

By now, there was no line between villager and rebel. Farmers clapped Braggen on the back as if he'd been born here. Young trainees leaned forward in their seats, hanging on Kirell's casual retelling of her duel with Ceyla punctuated by dramatic hand gestures that somehow made the fight even flashier than it had been. Sil Vorrun had a crowd of children around him, teaching them how to balance a spoon on their noses.

Juno found himself in the middle of a conversation with a group of blacksmiths, their broad hands gesturing animatedly as they compared the weight of his training spear to their own forges' work. He listened intently, eyes lighting up whenever one of them offered to let him visit the smithy tomorrow.

Ceyla, for her part, was arm-wrestling a pair of teenage hunters in the corner, her smirk growing wider each time she slammed another hand to the table. The hunters laughed even when they lost, demanding rematches like it was a festival game.

Khael sat at a long table with Elder Mia and two village healers, politely answering their questions about Wind Affinity techniques. Beneath his calm exterior, he kept his answers vague enough to protect his real identity, but he let a few harmless tricks of air swirl between his fingers to entertain the youngest watching. Lin sat beside him, nibbling at a pastry while her glowing glyphs formed little pictures in the air—tiny dancing figures that drew giggles from the children nearby.

At the center of it all, Solen Drayvahn strolled from table to table like the host of the entire celebration, swapping cups with strangers, laughing loudly at half-finished jokes, and somehow managing to sample food from everyone's plate without a single protest.

"Ahh, that's the stuff." Solen sighed contentedly after stealing a honey-glazed root from Kirell's plate.

"You're like a stray dog that wandered into the feast," Kirell muttered without looking up.

"Stray dogs are lovable," Solen countered, grinning. "Besides, look at this atmosphere! My students are making friends, the rebels are being treated like honored guests… and I'm eating for free. It's a perfect night."

The music swelled, the beat of the drums syncing with the hum of conversation. For a night, there was no fear of Voidborn, no tension between clans or allegiances only the warmth of full plates, shared stories, and the laughter of people who had survived together.

Solen leaned back in his chair at the edge of the hall, watching them all with a rare softness in his eyes. He didn't say it aloud, but it was there in his smile: (This… this is why we fight.)

A shadow fell across his table. He glanced up to see Ko and Li—the Shadow Guards standing with perfect, disciplined posture. Both had the quiet weight of people who were always on duty, even in celebration.

They bowed their heads slightly.

"Sir," Ko said, his voice steady but carrying a subtle respect.

Solen raised an eyebrow. "Hoh… you must be…"

"We are Shadow Guard," Ko continued. "I am Ko… and this is Li."

Li gave the faintest nod, her eyes sharp as a drawn blade.

"Ahhh," Solen said, waving his cup lazily before setting it down. "So, what's your business with me?"

Ko's gaze didn't waver. "How strong are you?"

Solen tilted his head, almost amused. "That's an odd first question."

Li stepped forward just enough for her voice to be heard over the music. "You are not just an ordinary Crimson Veinwalker, are you?"

The words made Solen's smirk widen just a fraction.

Solen tapped the crimson badge pinned to his coat with one finger. "Looks pretty ordinary to me."

Ko and Li exchanged a glance. Ko's tone remained calm, but there was a new edge in it. "Our instincts tell us… you've stepped beyond crimson before."

Solen leaned forward slightly, the lanternlight catching the faint lines at the corner of his eyes a sign of someone who had seen more than he'd ever admit.

"Maybe," he said with a lopsided grin. "Or maybe I'm just a really, really good Crimson."

Li studied his face, but Solen's expression stayed sunny, impossible to read.

Before they could press further, a villager shouted for another toast, pulling the Shadow Guards' attention away. Solen leaned back again, swirling his drink.

(Eclipse Vanguard, huh?) Ko thought as they walked away. (If he is… then Vernara's luck is better than we thought.)

To be continue