Night arrived without hurry.
After the day at the market, we returned home with slower steps than usual. It was not physical exhaustion. It was a kind of natural deceleration. The gate closed behind us and, for the first time in weeks, the silence of the courtyard carried no tension.
Rai'kanna was the first to stretch in a carefree manner.
"I had almost forgotten what a normal day feels like," she commented.
"Normality also requires adaptation," replied Lyannis while organizing the crystals she had bought.
Liriel removed the old cape and measured the new fabric over her shoulders, already imagining the adjustments she would make. Elara checked the new bowstring under the lamplight, testing the tension with small controlled movements. Vespera sat near the window and opened the newly acquired book, flipping through the first pages attentively.
I observed everything in silence.
The house felt different.
Not because of any structural change, but because of the absence of urgency. None of us needed to leave immediately. No plan needed to be drawn at that moment.
I prepared simple tea for everyone. Nothing elaborate. Just hot water and mild herbs. I distributed the cups without formality and sat in the center of the room.
Liriel was the first to approach, settling beside me.
"Today was important," she said.
"Because of the purchases?"
"No. Because of the lightness."
Rai'kanna sat on the other side, resting her elbows on her knees.
"The city looks at us differently now," she commented. "But inside here nothing has changed."
"That's good," replied Elara, approaching with the cup in her hands.
Lyannis closed the small box where she stored the crystals and also sat down. Vespera kept the book open for a few more seconds before closing it and joining the circle.
We stayed there, close.
Without combat formation.
Without strategy.
Just together.
"What did you think when you saw the dungeon record marked as completed?" Lyannis asked, looking directly at me.
I thought before answering.
"Responsibility."
Rai'kanna raised her gaze.
"Not pride?"
"Pride too. But responsibility weighs more."
Liriel lightly rested her head against my shoulder.
"You always think about what comes next."
"Because there is always something after."
Elara watched the flame of the lamp.
"But today there doesn't need to be."
Her words were simple, but firm.
And she was right.
That night did not require projections.
Vespera crossed her legs and spoke with a calm voice.
"The group's emotional stability has increased significantly. That influences future performance."
Rai'kanna laughed lightly.
"You really can't turn off the analysis, can you?"
"I can," Vespera replied. "But I choose not to do it completely."
Lyannis leaned back, supporting her hands on the floor.
"I was thinking… when we started, each of us had a different rhythm. Today, it feels like we breathe together."
It wasn't an exaggeration.
It was true.
Our movements in battle were synchronized, but now even the silence was shared.
Liriel stood up for a moment and went to the room. She returned with the old cape folded.
"I'll adjust the new one tomorrow," she said. "But this one carries our journey."
She placed the cape on the table carefully.
Rai'kanna looked at the object.
"It's full of cuts."
"Each one of them means something," Liriel replied.
I extended my hand and touched the worn fabric.
"We don't need to abandon it."
Lyannis smiled discreetly.
"Nothing we built needs to be discarded."
The conversation continued lightly. We commented on small situations from the market. The persistent vendor. The child running after the dog. The way some people tried to hide that they recognized us.
There was no tension.
There was no competition.
At one point, Elara approached and sat closer, leaning her shoulder against my arm.
"Thank you for the gift," she said.
"You all deserved something."
"It's not about deserving. It's about you having thought of it."
Rai'kanna agreed with a gesture.
"Small gestures build more than big speeches."
Vespera slightly tilted her head.
"The cohesion of the group does not depend only on combat."
Lyannis laughed softly.
"She's right, even when she tries to sound technical."
We stayed there for long minutes without speaking. Only the distant sound of the city gradually fading, the wood of the house adjusting to the cold of the night, the soft crackling of the flame.
Liriel broke the silence.
"If there is no mission tomorrow, I want to train lightly. Without pressure."
"I'm in," said Rai'kanna.
"Me too," added Elara.
"I will review the new circles," Lyannis added.
Vespera simply nodded.
I looked at each of them.
Not as a commander.
But as someone who understands that this is rare.
"I'm proud," I said.
They remained silent for a second.
"Of what?" Rai'kanna asked.
"Of how we grew. Not only in strength. But here."
I lightly touched my own chest.
Liriel held my hand.
"You grew with us."
The night advanced.
The flame of the lamp dimmed.
We stood up almost at the same time, as if there were a silent agreement. They organized the cups, stored the items, adjusted the house for rest.
Before going to the rooms, we stopped once more in the living room.
Without formal words.
Just closeness.
Liriel approached first and hugged me with calm firmness. Rai'kanna did the same, without exaggeration, but with real warmth. Lyannis briefly rested her forehead against my shoulder. Elara held my hand for a few seconds before letting go. Vespera touched my arm with silent delicacy.
There was no need for grand declarations.
The feeling was evident.
We went upstairs to rest.
I lay down looking at the ceiling for a few moments.
The house was quiet.
The city too.
No threats.
No pressure.
Just the calm breathing coming from the other rooms.
I closed my eyes.
Fame could grow.
New dungeons could appear.
Stronger enemies would certainly arise.
But that night, none of that mattered.
Because we were together.
And for the first time in a long time, I was not thinking about the next challenge.
I was simply living the present.
The night was peaceful.
And that was enough.