The hills thinned into open land again.
No signs marked where one place ended and another began.
The world simply shifted, without asking.
Kael walked at the same steady pace.
He didn't measure distance anymore.
He didn't need to.
Lira felt the rhythm through the bond.
"You're not thinking ahead," she said softly.
Kael's intent was clear.
I'm thinking about now.
She nodded.
"That's new."
They crossed a wide stretch of grass where insects hummed and wind moved in long waves.
No one hid.
No one waited for signals.
Sera walked a little farther from the group this time—exploring the edges of the path.
Kael watched her without tension.
Jon stayed near the center.
The Seer followed, silent but observant.
Nothing required correction.
That mattered.
By afternoon, they reached a shallow rise overlooking a slow river.
Water curved gently through the land, reflecting the sky.
Kael stopped there.
Not because it was strategic.
Because it felt right.
He sat near the edge.
Lira sat beside him.
The others found their own places without direction.
The pattern had changed.
Not centered on command—
but on choice.
Lira traced her fingers lightly through the grass.
"Kael… if everything stayed like this…"
He felt the question.
Would it last?
His intent came slow and grounded.
Only if no one tries to own it again.
The Seer spoke quietly from behind them.
"Peace is not fragile," he said.
"It's ignored."
They stayed by the river until the light shifted toward evening.
No interruption came.
No tension returned.
When Kael stood, the others did too.
Without words.
Without habit.
Just alignment.
As they moved away from the river, Lira felt something simple settle inside her.
The world was no longer reacting to power.
It was responding to itself.
And that—
Was something that stayed quiet—
but endured.