The morning light stretched over REF's newly built walls, gleaming off polished rooftops and cobbled streets. The city was waking up — merchants lifting their stalls' curtains, blacksmiths stoking forges, and children darting between fountains. But at the center square stood Kael's team, gathered for one of their unusual meetings.
Vex had just set up a stand covered in glass vials and copper instruments. Arra scribbled diagrams on a glowing parchment beside him, occasionally snapping her fingers to make gears click together midair. Luminor hovered slightly above the group, his voice calm as he recorded the day's plans. Ember was already arguing with the town treasurer about trade permits.
And then there was Sequoia.
She stood dramatically in front of the fountain, arms crossed, her crimson cloak fluttering in the wind as if it were part of a staged performance. "I can't believe," she declared, loud enough for everyone in the plaza to hear, "that my stepbrother had the audacity to kidnap me once — and now, now I'm supposed to forgive him?" She pressed her hand to her chest, as though clutching invisible pearls. "The pain! The betrayal! Oh, woe is me!"
Kael pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sequoia, he didn't even know about the curse back then."
"That's not the point!" she snapped, spinning dramatically. "It's the principle, Kael. Do you know how many nights I couldn't sleep because of that—" she stopped mid-sentence, lowering her voice to a whisper, "—incident?"
Amara sighed from beside her. "You mean the night you fell asleep five minutes after crying?"
Sequoia gasped, pretending to be offended. "That was a different kind of sleep, Amara. A tragic one."
Lyra tried not to laugh, whispering to Kael, "She really should have been a theater performer."
"Don't encourage her," Kael muttered, folding his arms.
But before anyone could add to the chaos, a deep, commanding voice echoed across the square.
"Enough of this noise."
Every head turned. Standing on the marble steps of the town hall was Brown, the skeletal warrior commander — his armor polished, his hollow eye sockets glowing faintly with blue light. Despite his undead appearance, his presence carried a strange nobility, a gravity that silenced even Sequoia.
Brown stepped forward, his boots striking the stone with weighty rhythm. Behind him, his legion of undead stood neatly arranged — disciplined, unwavering. The people of REF, once frightened by them, now watched with awe and respect. The undead had become silent protectors of the city, a living reminder that even death could serve a noble cause.
Brown stopped before the group, crossing his arms. "I have been observing," he said, his voice a mix of echo and authority, "and what I see is a team too comfortable."
Kael frowned. "Comfortable?"
"Yes," Brown said, gesturing at the busy streets around them. "The city thrives. The markets overflow. The people smile. And yet—" he raised a bony finger, pointing toward Kael, "—you've all begun to forget the fire that brought you here."
The group fell silent. Even Sequoia's theatrical pout vanished.
Brown's voice deepened. "I remember when we were nothing but dust and dreams — when you, Kael, fought with a sword half-broken, and your allies bled beside you to defend a town that didn't believe in you. Now, you all stand on paved streets, surrounded by comfort. But comfort breeds complacency."
Vex rubbed the back of his neck. "You're saying we're getting lazy?"
"I'm saying," Brown replied, "you're losing the hunger that made you strong."
His glowing eyes swept over them — from Kael to Lyra, from Amara and Elian to Thorne and Sequoia. "You think power is something you can hold onto without struggle? That peace keeps itself? No. Peace must be defended. With vigilance. With purpose. With fire."
Luminor nodded slowly, his mechanical voice steady. "Statistically accurate. Societies decay faster through complacency than through conflict."
"Exactly," Brown said, raising his voice. "We built this place — not because it was easy, but because we refused to bow to fear. Remember why you fight! Remember what you protect!"
His words struck like a blade to the heart — not harsh, but awakening. Even Kael felt his chest tighten with renewed determination.
Vex, who usually hid behind sarcasm, muttered, "I hate when skeletons make me emotional."
Brown turned to him sharply. "Emotion is good. It means you're alive. Use it."
Sequoia sniffed dramatically, wiping her eyes. "I'm not crying because of the speech. I just— it's— my makeup got in my eye."
Lyra burst into laughter. "Sure it did."
Kael stepped forward, smiling faintly. "Brown's right. We've gotten too comfortable. We've done amazing things, but we can't forget what's beyond these walls. The guild's already sent a new request — a missing village in the south. We'll move tomorrow."
The group nodded, seriousness settling in.
Then, of course, Sequoia raised her hand. "Do they have nice inns there?"
"Sequoia—" Kael started.
"I'm just asking!" she said, crossing her arms. "If we're fighting monsters again, I at least want proper beds. You know, for morale."
Arra chuckled as she packed her sketches. "I'll build you a foldable mana-bed that sets itself up wherever we stop."
Sequoia blinked, suddenly excited. "Wait, seriously?"
Arra winked. "Of course. I can build anything, remember?"
That sparked a round of laughter again. Even Brown's glowing eyes seemed to brighten slightly. "Good," he said, lowering his tone. "Laugh while you can. Tomorrow, we return to the field. But today—" he looked at Kael "—let your fire grow again."
As the meeting ended, the group dispersed to prepare for the journey. Kael lingered by the fountain, watching the sun reflect off the water. Brown's words still echoed in his head.
Lyra approached quietly. "You're thinking about what he said."
Kael nodded. "He's right. We can't forget who we are. Peace is… fragile. We have to protect it."
Lyra smiled softly. "Then we'll protect it — together. Just like always."
Kael reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Together."
From across the square, Sequoia called out dramatically, "Kael! Don't get all romantic without warning us next time — I nearly choked on my fruit tart!"
Lyra laughed again, and Kael couldn't help but smile. Drama, chaos, love, and loyalty — somehow, it all worked. Because that was what made their team real.
As the sun set over REF, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, Brown's undead silently stood watch at the gates — and the group's laughter echoed through the streets, carrying with it a reminder:
Even peace needs warriors.
Even comfort needs courage.
And even in laughter, there was fire.