After the festival, the house felt even quieter than usual.
I closed the door and, for a few seconds, simply remained there, feeling the difference between the noise of the square and the silence of our space. Outside there was music, applause, and expectation. Inside there was stability.
Rai'kanna was the first to release the air she had been holding.
"I prefer this."
She removed her cloak and hung it carefully, something she hadn't done with such attention before. Small signs of change.
Liriel walked to the window and partially closed the curtains, leaving only the soft light of the moon entering. Elara placed the bow on the rack with delicacy. Lyannis organized the festival invitation on the table as a formal record. Vespera remained still for a few moments, as if she were still analyzing what we had experienced.
I sat on the simple sofa in the living room.
Public recognition didn't bother me. But it wasn't something I wished to repeat frequently. Even so, understanding the impact of our presence changed something inside me.
Liriel approached first and sat beside me.
"You became thoughtful after the speech."
"I did."
"Weight?"
"Consideration."
She nodded. She understood the difference.
Rai'kanna sat on the floor, leaning her back against the sofa, close to my legs.
"I don't like it when people expect too much."
"They don't expect perfection," Lyannis said. "They expect security."
"That's still a lot," Rai'kanna replied.
Elara sat on the other side, crossing her legs.
"But we can offer that."
Vespera finally spoke.
"The collective trust observed today was stable. There was no tension. Only admiration."
Lyannis rested her chin on her hand.
"The problem with admiration is that it can turn into pressure."
"Or into motivation," Liriel said.
The atmosphere was serene.
There was no conflict in the conversation.
There was analysis.
I looked at each of them.
"Did you feel uncomfortable?"
Rai'kanna answered first.
"A little. But it wasn't bad."
Elara smiled slightly.
"I never imagined children would ask about arrows."
Lyannis adjusted her hair behind her ear.
"Explaining basic magic to non-practitioners was… interesting."
Vespera concluded.
"The event reinforced our internal cohesion."
I stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking.
"When that boy said he wanted to be like me…"
Liriel gently squeezed my hand.
"You don't like being a role model."
"That's not it. I just don't want them to see only the strength."
Rai'kanna turned her face toward me.
"And what do you want them to see?"
"People."
The silence that followed was soft.
Elara leaned her shoulder against mine.
"They see that too."
The night moved forward slowly. The moonlight crossed the room, drawing subtle shadows across the floor.
Lyannis stood up and went to the kitchen to prepare tea. Simple, familiar movements. The sound of water heating brought an even more intimate feeling.
Rai'kanna tilted her head back, resting it against the side of the sofa.
"You know that, regardless of what the city thinks, we are here because we want to be."
"I know."
"Not because of fame."
"I know."
Liriel spoke calmly.
"Fame is external. Our bond is not."
Vespera added.
"The emotional stability of the group remains constant."
Lyannis returned with the cups and distributed them carefully.
The aroma of tea filled the room.
We drank in silence for a few minutes.
It wasn't empty silence.
It was presence.
Elara broke the quiet.
"Today, when the crowd applauded, I didn't feel proud of the strength."
"What did you feel?" I asked.
"Of the fact that we are together."
Rai'kanna agreed.
"If I had been alone on that platform, it would have been different."
Liriel looked at me.
"You weren't alone."
It wasn't just a literal statement.
It was confirmation.
Lyannis sat down again.
"What worries me is not the recognition. It's what may come because of it."
"You think someone might challenge us?" Rai'kanna asked.
"Not out of simple rivalry. But as a test."
Vespera slightly tilted her head.
"Probability increased after consolidation of the legendary status."
I took a deep breath.
"If they come, we'll deal with it."
Liriel rested her head on my shoulder.
"Not today."
"Not today," I repeated.
The conversation naturally slowed down.
Elara stood up and opened the window a little more to let the air circulate. The night breeze entered softly, gently moving the curtains.
Rai'kanna remained sitting on the floor, but now she rested her arm on my knee, a simple and comfortable gesture.
Lyannis placed her feet on the carpet, relaxed posture. Vespera closed her eyes for a few moments, as if mentally recording every detail of that moment.
There was no need for constant words.
The unity was there.
I realized something clearly that night.
It wasn't only trust in battle.
It was trust in silence.
The ability to share space without tension.
Without the need to prove anything.
The city could watch us.
It could admire us.
It could call us legendary.
But there, in that moonlit room, it was just us.
And that was enough.
Liriel raised her face and looked directly at me.
"You're calm now."
"I am."
Rai'kanna closed her eyes.
"Good. Because I am too."
Elara sat down close again, leaning lightly against my arm.
Lyannis rested her head against the back of the sofa.
Vespera opened her eyes and said only one sentence.
"The harmony remains."
I stayed there, feeling the breathing of each one, the soft sound of the night, the stability of the moment.
Fame did not enter the house.
The pressure stayed outside.
Inside, there was balance.
After some time, we stood up to rest.
I went upstairs last, noticing that all of them were serene.
Before turning off the light, I looked one last time at the empty room.
Today we were seen by everyone.
But this night was only ours.
And in the quiet of the room, I understood something simple.
True strength is not in the applause.
It is in the peace that remains when the applause ends.
The night was silent.
And that quiet confirmed everything.