Night settled over the city like a velvet curtain, soft and heavy. The festival square had quieted, leaving only the hum of far-off voices and the occasional rattle of a cart's wheels. Lanterns still glowed softly on strings overhead, bobbing in the breeze like fireflies caught mid-dance.
Marcus leaned against the edge of the rooftop, finishing the last sip of his tea. Victoria sat beside him, cross-legged, plucking at an empty skewer with idle fingers. Their earlier energy had worn off, replaced now by a comfortable silence.
The dragon stood near the center of the rooftop, looking out over the city. His robes caught the moonlight, shimmering faintly like a pond under starlight.
Then he spoke.
"You've both proven yourselves in an unexpected way."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You mean by feeding you until you couldn't move?"
A quiet chuckle. "No. By offering a piece of yourselves. Food carries more than flavor. It carries intention. Memory. Soul."
