Several days passed after the whirlwind return from Vintross. Elowen settled back into its familiar, industrious peace, now augmented by the cheerful chaos of nearly a dozen extra children exploring their new surroundings under Sister Alia's gentle guidance. The twin foundations of the Light and Dark churches rose steadily, side-by-side, a testament to the village's newfound, if slightly awkward, understanding of balance.
Riku, for his part, allowed himself a rare moment of quiet repose. He lay sprawled comfortably on his premium futon in the inn room, the late afternoon sun slanting through the window. The gentle whir of the ceiling fan overhead was a soothing counterpoint to the distant sounds of village life – children's laughter, the rhythmic clang from Gnord's forge, the murmur of voices from the fields.
