The Festival of Dawn and Duskfall’s Boom ended in cheers. Mira had lifted the golden sword, the crowd had sung her name, and the territories—north, south, east, and west—returned to their lands with pride and purpose.
Daily life in Duskfall returned. The smiths opened their shops again, and Merchants filled the market.
A year passed without bloodshed. For twelve months, the city knew laughter. Liam walked the streets as king and saw peace in the eyes of his people. Selene often stood with him, smiling as though the battles they had fought together were distant memories. Even Damian, often restless, sat in the council chamber with fewer storms in his voice.
But peace is never whole. It wears thin at the edges, waiting for a single spark to remind the world how fragile it is.
One dawn, a
