Morning came slower in Ardain now.
Not because the sun was late, but because it lingered, like it wanted to stretch across every stone and whisper, "You made it."
Elira sat on the edge of the throne steps, bare feet in the dew-wet grass.
She didn't wear the crown.
None of them did.
It sat on a pedestal now, right in the middle of the Circle's new hall, here anyone could see it, touch it, or walk away from it. Not heavy anymore. Just a reminder.
She still carried the ember in her chest.
And she still had her smile.
Though it was a little quieter now.
"Something's missing," Kesh said, flopping down beside her with a half-eaten peach. "There should be trumpets. Or fireworks. Or at least a parade."
Elira grinned. "Want me to make a banner that says, 'We Didn't All Die'?"
"I'd wear it proudly," he said.
She leaned against him. "Is everyone okay?"
He nodded. "Tired. Varn's off writing rules. Myn's teaching star-weaving. Solin's trying to convince birds to help with announcements. Isen made a memory garden. It's really peaceful."
"Peaceful sounds suspicious."
Kesh smirked. "You'd rather fight another fire god?"
"Depends. Do they bake?"
They laughed.
But beneath it, Elira's heart was restless.
She wasn't sure why.
Maybe because she'd spent so long fighting that she didn't know what to do with stillness.
Or maybe because she could feel something new growing in the cracks.
Later that day, she walked the city alone.
It had changed.
It wasn't just stone and story anymore. People lived here again.
A centaur family painting walls. A banshee baby chasing butterflies. A group of children with glow-eyes chasing floating lanterns that laughed when caught.
Elira watched them with soft awe.
This was what she had fought for.
Not glory.
Not thrones.
This.
Then a voice: "Do you miss it?"
She turned.
Niro stood at the edge of a rebuilt fountain.
"I don't know," she said. "Do you?"
"I miss you."
She looked at him.
He smiled like dawn. "You've been far away, even when you're here."
"I think I'm waiting."
"For what?"
She didn't answer right away.
Then, "For the next wrong thing. For something else to go wrong. For someone else to break."
He reached for her hand.
"You don't have to carry that alone."
"I know," she said.
But it still felt like she did.
That night, the Circle gathered again.
Not in war.
Not in worry.
Just… to be.
They sat around a fire in the old courtyard.
Varn told a story about the first frost giant to ever cry.
Myn drew constellations in the air with her fingers.
Solin hummed a lullaby that made the stars blink.
Isen passed around mugs of glowing cider.
Kesh tried to juggle fruit and dropped every piece.
And Elira watched them all.
Niro came up beside her. "You don't have to stay, you know."
She blinked. "What?"
"You think peace means standing still. But it doesn't. It means choosing where to step next."
She looked at the fire.
And saw a path inside it.
Not a dangerous one.
Not a dark one.
Just… different.
"What if I don't know where it leads?"
"Then you're finally free."
She took a breath.
And smiled.
The next morning, Elira packed a small bag.
Just her journal.
A stone from her village.
A feather from Solin's songs.
And the tiny lantern the ember lived in.
It still glowed.
Niro met her at the gate.
"Going somewhere?"
"Everywhere," she said.
"Alone?"
She grinned. "Only until someone else follows."
He stepped back.
Let her go.
And the world opened like a map made of sky.
Back in the city, a girl with tiny flame tattoos looked up from her book.
She saw the crown.
And whispered, "Maybe I'll wear that someday."
The Circle had begun again.
Not as rulers.
Not as warriors.
But as people who remembered.
People who lit the way forward.
One ember at a time.