Ethan, Trevor, and Lamair lounged atop a floating cloud Trevor had stitched together from condensed mist. It drifted lazily above the empire, high enough that the city lights below blurred into constellations of gold and white, mirroring the stars overhead. For the first time in what felt like eras, none of them wore the weight of a battlefield on their shoulders.
Peace looked strange on them. It fit, but awkwardly, like armor worn inside out.
The rest of the boys had already been sent back home after considerable persuasion. Eric and Ericson had been the loudest objectors, insisting that "legendary nights end at sunrise," which ultimately earned them near-broken legs and a stern lecture about knowing when to retreat with dignity. Jerry, Reginald, and Thomas had peeled off earlier, dragged away by duty and looming official meetings tied to the upcoming ceremony. Responsibility, that ancient predator, never slept.
