Evening settled over Solmere in a hush of golden haze and shifting clouds.
The town square pulsed with life—strings of warm lights stretched across wooden poles, flickering gently like stars that had come down to dance.
Booths hugged the edges, draped in fabric and flowers.
Laughter rose—light, unbothered—as if the weight of recent days had finally been shrugged off.
Children chased each other around the edges of the circle, ribbons tied to their wrists, leaving streaks of color in the dusk.
The air smelled of roasted corn, cinnamon cakes, and the slight tang of rain—just threatening enough to keep the elders murmuring under their breath.
"They said the rainforest predicted this," one of the older women said, squinting at the sky like it had personally betrayed her. "Didn't I tell you this morning, Dand?"
