Vailor was never silent. Not even on the coldest dawns, when the wind came down from the walls and extinguished the weakest torches. Still, that night, the city felt different. It wasn't the usual noise of hurried footsteps or arguments in taverns. It was something else. A living sound. A sound that pulsed.
The streets were filled with people. Not just adventurers or soldiers, but merchants, artisans, children running between improvised tables, old men sitting on barrels smiling as if they had gone back in time. Banners were hung without order, cups clashed, voices blended into laughter too loud for any ordinary night.
I walked through it all with a strange feeling in my chest. It wasn't pride. It wasn't shame either. It was something close to disbelief.
Not long ago, I had been sleeping in a cramped inn room, counting coins before accepting any mission. Now, people I had never seen were offering me drinks as if we were old friends.
Liriel walked beside me, watching everything attentively. Her smile was restrained, almost respectful, as if she were assessing that human world that insisted on celebrating to the limit. Elara was the opposite. She laughed loudly, accepted tankards, thanked people with exaggerated enthusiasm. Vespera walked a little behind us, arms crossed, but her attentive gaze didn't hide that she was also taking in every detail.
"So this is it," Elara said, raising her tankard. "Surviving a demon general earns you free drinks."
"It earns more than that," Vespera replied. "Drinks are just what they can offer right now."
Liriel glanced at me. "You're very quiet."
"I'm trying to understand when all of this became real," I answered.
She didn't say anything. She just nodded, as if she understood more than I wanted to admit.
We passed through a square where musicians improvised something that followed no rhythm at all, yet somehow worked. A group of soldiers danced without armor, piled in a corner. I saw poorly healed wounds, tired eyes, but none of them seemed willing to remember the fear of that battle.
A man suddenly grabbed my arm. I almost reacted on instinct, but he simply shoved a full tankard into my hand.
"For the hero," he said, with a crooked smile.
"I didn't do it alone," I replied.
He laughed. "No hero ever does."
I let out a slow breath before drinking. The taste was far too strong, but that night no one seemed to care about excess.
We kept walking. At every corner, someone recognized the group. They didn't shout our names. They didn't point. They just watched with that strange look of someone who knows something has changed, but doesn't yet understand exactly what.
We were near the inner wall when the captain of the guard found us. He looked far too tired to celebrate.
"The king will make a statement tomorrow," he said. "Tonight is for you to breathe."
"Breathing has never been this loud," Elara commented.
He smiled faintly before walking away.
The celebration continued, but I began to feel the weight of the night. Not physical. Something deeper. The war wasn't over. One general had fallen, yes. But the world didn't become safer because of a single victory.
"You're thinking too much," Vespera said, as if she had read my mind.
"Maybe," I replied.
Liriel stopped and looked around. "Even so, this matters. These people need to believe it's worth fighting."
I looked again at the city lit by torches, bonfires, and improvised magic. At the tired but happy faces. For the first time since I arrived in this world, I felt that my presence had left something behind besides destruction.
Elara stepped closer and took my arm. "Tonight isn't the night to carry the world on your back."
I took a deep breath. Maybe she was right.
I accepted another drink. Then another. The voices began to blend together. The laughter grew closer. The city did not sleep that night.
And, for the first time, I didn't fear the dawn.