The walk back to Nova Drakhal took twelve minutes.
It should have taken three. My legs kept buckling. The golden energy from the broken seal pulsed through my veins in waves — too much, then too little, then too much again. Like a heart learning a new rhythm.
I made it to the gates standing. That was enough.
The first thing I heard was cheering.
I stopped. Blinked. Looked up.
Soldiers lined the walls. Hundreds of them. Fists raised, weapons banging against shields, voices raw from screaming orders an hour ago now screaming something else entirely. Behind them, on the rooftops, on the balconies, in the windows — civilians. Merchants. Families. Children sitting on their parents' shoulders, pointing at me like I was something out of a story.
Zero casualties.
