The town square had been transformed.
Lanterns of every shape and hue floated gently overhead like sleepy stars tethered to invisible threads. Children darted through the crowd with sticky candy in their hands, the scent of fried bread and spiced cider dancing through the air. Laughter echoed beneath the twilight sky, and for once, Elias didn't feel the ever-present weight pressing on his shoulders.
He and Rhea walked side by side, her small hand clutching the edge of his coat like a nervous child lost in a crowd. Which, to be fair, she technically was. But she didn't look it tonight.
Tonight, Rhea had made a surprising effort to blend in.
Her black curls had been brushed into something resembling tidiness, held back by a little violet ribbon (which she insisted she had stolen from a "mean" store dummy that "deserved it." Elias had not asked questions). She wore a simple cream dress that swayed gently as she walked, with subtle gold thread at the hem. Her red eyes, usually glowing with suspicion or pride, shimmered in awe.
Elias glanced down. "Doing okay?"
She nodded but didn't let go of his coat. "It's… loud."
"Too loud?"
"No. Just... real."
That caught him off guard. "Real?"
"Like I won't wake up and find myself sealed in the dark again."
His chest tightened, but he smiled anyway. "You're here. This is real."
She stared at him, long and searching, as if testing whether his words could be trusted more than her own memories. Then she tugged on his sleeve.
"Can we get the glowing fruit?"
He blinked. "The what now?"
She pointed across the square at a stall where a wiry old man was dunking fruits into shimmering syrup. The resulting orbs looked like someone had trapped starlight inside them.
"Those," she said seriously. "I want to bite light."
Elias chuckled. "Alright, light-biter. Let's go."
Ten minutes and one silver coin later, Rhea was proudly chewing through her glowing fruit, which now had a suspiciously charred bite mark in it. She seemed disappointed that it didn't sizzle.
"You didn't have to incinerate the skin," Elias muttered, wiping soot off her cheek.
"I wanted to see if it would fight back."
"It's a peach, not a fire sprite."
"You never know," she said solemnly.
They wandered through the crowd, watching street performers juggle enchanted rings and singers charm wind chimes into harmonizing with their voices. Elias felt oddly content.
But that couldn't last.
Because just as they reached the edge of the square near the fountain, he spotted two knights in church colors asking questions.
Rhea noticed too. She shrank behind him, hiding her face in the folds of his coat.
He acted quickly, leading her into the alley between the weaver's shop and the potion tent. Once they were safely tucked out of sight, he knelt beside her.
"They're not here for you," he said, trying to sound confident. "And even if they were, you're not alone."
"But I'm dangerous," she whispered. "They're right."
"Rhea—"
"I melted a training dummy yesterday just by sneezing!"
"That dummy had it coming."
She cracked a tiny smile. "You said that last time too."
"I say it every time because dummies are secretly jerks."
She snorted. "You're the worst adult I've ever met."
"That's the nicest thing you've said to me all week."
He stood and offered her his hand. "Come on. Fireworks are starting soon."
They found a quiet hill just outside the town square where the view was clear and the air less crowded. Elias spread out his cloak for her to sit on, then flopped down beside her with an exaggerated sigh.
"You're not old," Rhea said, frowning. "Why do you sound like your back is made of glass?"
"Because I fought in two skirmishes, hiked across a mountain range, and raised a tiny ex-demon queen who tried to assassinate me with hot soup."
"It wasn't hot soup," she said. "It was medium-warm."
"It was scalding!"
"You whined like a child."
They bickered quietly until the first firework soared into the sky with a high whistle. Then—
Boom.
Golden sparkles burst overhead in a flowering tree pattern. Rhea gasped. The light reflected in her eyes like stars had fallen just for her.
More explosions followed—sapphire pinwheels, silver dragons, crimson hearts. The sky danced.
Elias felt her inch closer.
Then, without warning, Rhea reached over and took his hand.
It was small and warm and slightly sticky from the glowing fruit. He didn't move. He just let her hold on.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Then Rhea whispered, "Everyone's looking up."
"Yeah."
"Even the mean ones."
"That's kind of the point. Fireworks make people look at something beautiful together."
She squeezed his hand.
"I want to be something people can look at like that. Not just something they're afraid of."
"You will be," Elias said quietly. "You already are."
She glanced up at him, doubt flickering in her gaze. "You really believe that?"
"I do."
She looked back at the sky, silent. Another firework bloomed—this one in the shape of a phoenix.
"I don't remember everything," she said. "But I know I burned down cities. I turned people into ash because I thought it made me strong. I ruled by fear."
Elias listened, waiting.
"But when you held me just now… it didn't hurt. It felt... safe."
She looked down at their clasped hands. Her voice, for the first time, was fragile.
"You're my safe place."
He didn't know what to say to that. His throat tightened, and he blinked fast.
So instead of talking, he just held her hand tighter.
And for a moment—just a moment—they sat together in perfect silence, under a sky of falling stars.
Her voice came later, soft and distant in narration, like a memory already being born:
"I wanted to stay in that moment forever."
To be continued…