Lira glanced at the dragon, her calm aura unwavering. "I've grown, Serelyth. Strength is not only in power. It's in knowing when to act with mercy. I will not take lives when they offer peace."
The older demon, understanding the weight of her restraint, scrambled forward to a pedestal nearby. He retrieved the village's most prized item—a sword that gleamed with polished metal, its runes faintly pulsing as if alive. The demon handed it to Lira with trembling hands.
"Take it," he said, voice almost breaking. "It is ours to give, for forgiveness and for the safety of all elementals."
Lira took the sword carefully, the metal surprisingly light yet radiating quiet strength. The older demon then produced an ornate scroll. With trembling hands, he signed it, then gestured for Lira to affix her mark. She did so, the seal of her two roots glowing faintly on the parchment.
