The aftermath of the tribal square's absolute pandemonium was a blur of shouting, cheering, and chaotic celebration, but Sol eventually managed to slip away from the overwhelming adulation of the crowd.
He was a god to them now, a walking legend who held the sky and the earth in his palms, but beneath the terrifying, aura he had projected, he was physically and mentally running on fumes.
Kira didn't leave his side for a single second. The feline-eyed warrior expertly navigated him away from the mob of overly eager elders and swooning villagers, guiding him back to the quiet, secluded safety of his own quarters.
The moment the heavy wooden door shut behind them, cutting off the deafening roar of the tribe, the adrenaline that had been keeping Sol upright finally began to crash. He let out a long, ragged exhale, leaning heavily against the petrified timber wall.
