They found a quiet spot near the edge of the marketplace, where a large stone bench overlooked the bustling streets.
The noise was still present—the hum of conversation, the rhythmic clang of blacksmiths hammering metal, the occasional bursts of laughter from taverns—but it was distant enough that it felt... peaceful. A rare kind of peace.
Elysia exhaled, stretching her legs slightly as she adjusted herself on the cool stone. She hadn't realized how much she had been moving, how much she had been swept up in the energy of the village, until they finally stopped.
She stole a glance at Malvoria, who sat beside her, silent and still.
For once, they weren't arguing.
They weren't bickering, weren't exchanging snide remarks, weren't locked in some battle of stubbornness and pride.
They were just here.
Watching.
Existing.
And it felt... strange.
