Byung stepped out of the healer's longhouse after checking on Velara one last time. She was still unconscious, body motionless under thick furs, but color had returned to her face and her breathing sounded steady. The settlement square felt completely different now—alive in a way it hadn't been when he'd left. Torches flickered against the gathering dusk, casting dancing shadows. Goblins and orcs moved with purpose, but every few steps someone would stop to nod at him, touch a fist to their chest, or just stare in quiet awe.
The welcome wasn't loud cheers or speeches. It was quieter, deeper. An older goblin pressed a small woven bracelet into his palm before stepping back respectfully. A grizzled orc blacksmith paused his hammer strikes long enough to grunt, "Good you're back, my King." Even the Stonehide orcs—the ones who'd once looked at goblins like vermin—met his eyes with something close to reverence.
