The town hummed with life around them, ordinary and alive in ways that felt miraculous after the void, the Fold, and the erased timelines. Kael and Eira walked side by side through the cobblestone streets, their hands brushing lightly, a subtle reminder that they were still tethered together in more ways than one.

Jorah lagged behind, hands shoved into his cloak pockets, muttering under his breath about the absurdity of "quiet afternoons" after cosmic apocalypse. "Quiet… my foot. I expect a monster or at least a rogue temporal rift to appear any second now."

Eira shot him a sideways glance, amused. "You always say that."

"Because it's true," Jorah replied, shrugging as if it explained everything. "The universe hates calm. It's allergic."

Kael allowed himself a small smile. His eyes lingered on Eira, catching the golden sunlight in her hair, the way she tilted her head when she thought, the small crease that always formed in her brow when she was focused. She looked… real. Whole. Untouched by erased timelines.

"I never thought," Kael murmured, almost to himself, "that getting remembered could feel like this."

Eira glanced at him, curious, then softened. "It's more than being remembered, Kael. You weren't just forgotten… you were erased. And now—" She let her words hang, letting him fill in the silence.

He met her eyes, a mixture of awe and something he hadn't allowed himself to feel for a long time: relief. "Now, I'm here. For real."

Her smile was quiet, almost shy, though it warmed his chest in ways he didn't expect. "I'm glad."

Jorah, having apparently decided the emotional moment was far too long, interjected. "Glad? We're all glad, Eira. Except me. I'd like a little less melodrama before my next heart attack, thank you very much."

Kael laughed softly, a sound free of tension for the first time in ages. "You're impossible."

"And still indispensable," Jorah shot back, smirking.

They wandered toward the outskirts of town, where the fields stretched green and unbroken, the river reflecting the late afternoon sun. The gentle wind whispered through the trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers, the kind that made Kael's chest tighten in a familiar way—like hope and fear were wrestling inside him.

Eira walked close, stepping beside him. "You never talked about what it felt like… being erased," she said softly.

Kael ran a hand along the hilt of the Chrono Blade, feeling its pulse—a quiet echo of the battles, the Fold, and the memories he had fought to reclaim. "It's hard to describe," he admitted. "Like watching everything you ever were… being rewritten. And knowing there's nothing you can do to stop it."

She nodded, listening, her expression tender. "I know you fought. And you made it back. That's what matters."

Kael swallowed, heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with danger. "You… mattered too," he said quietly. "More than anyone."

Her hand brushed his as they walked, a fleeting touch that lingered longer than it should have, both of them aware of the tension simmering beneath it. Eira's breath caught. "Kael…" she started, then stopped, unsure how to say what she felt without unraveling the fragile calm around them.

He looked at her, the sunlight catching the edge of her eyes, golden and fierce. "I know," he said softly. "I feel it too."

They stopped by the riverbank, the water reflecting the sky's pale light. For a moment, they simply stood there, shoulder to shoulder, letting the quiet of the world around them fill the space that words couldn't.

Jorah cleared his throat loudly, shattering the delicate bubble. "Oh, for the love of—Are we all going to float around holding hands until the next apocalypse, or do I get a turn?"

Eira rolled her eyes, but Kael chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. "You'd ruin it anyway, Jorah."

"True," Jorah admitted, hands raised in surrender. "But someone's gotta point out the looming threat of doom while everyone else gets all gushy."

Kael's smile faded slightly, his eyes scanning the horizon. The world was restored, yes—but the lingering ripples of time's fractures still hummed faintly beneath the surface. Somewhere out there, something ancient was stirring, something patient and aware. The Source hadn't moved yet, but Kael could feel the faint tug of its gaze, like a shadow stretching across all timelines.

Eira followed his gaze. "You're sensing it," she said quietly.

Kael nodded. "It's waiting. It always waits."

Her hand found his again, grounding him. "Then we'll face it," she said. "Together."

The simplicity of the words struck him. Together. It carried promise, fear, and trust all at once. He squeezed her hand gently, grateful for the anchor she had been—and would continue to be—in a world that had tried to forget him.

Jorah huffed dramatically. "Can we please stop getting sentimental near a river? The sound of water makes my soul nervous. Also, someone remind me why I'm still alive again?"

Kael smiled faintly. "Because you're insufferable and we need someone to keep the balance."

"Ha," Jorah said. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The trio walked a little further down the riverbank, the town behind them vibrant and alive, children laughing, shopkeepers calling to one another. Kael's gaze remained on Eira, and for the first time, he allowed himself to imagine a future—a quiet moment like this, a life that wasn't just survival and battle.

Eira glanced at him, reading the flicker in his expression. "Kael, you don't have to say it," she said softly, almost teasing. "I know what you're thinking."

"I do?" he asked, heart quickening.

She smirked faintly, the teasing edge softened by tenderness. "About what comes next. About… everything. I see it in your eyes."

Kael swallowed, the words stuck behind the barrier of timing and history. He wanted to tell her everything, all at once—but the quiet, the calm, and the lingering fear of the Source kept him from speaking fully. "Not yet," he said instead.

Her fingers brushed his again, a spark in the afternoon light. "Then we wait," she said. "But not forever."

Jorah groaned. "You two are going to give me heart failure. Can someone please invent a proper apocalypse warning system before the next big dramatic confession?"

Kael laughed, tension easing slightly. "We'll save it for after the battle."

Eira squeezed his hand one last time as the sun began its slow descent, casting gold across the river. "Then let's enjoy the calm while it lasts," she whispered.

Kael nodded, taking a deep breath. "The calm before the storm."

And as the three of them walked back toward town, side by side, Kael felt it for the first time in what seemed like forever: the fragile, precious certainty of the moment.

The storm would come. The Source would rise. But here, now, Kael was alive, remembered, and tethered to the people who mattered most.

And he wasn't afraid. Not while Eira was by his side.

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