Weeks passed. The rain came and went, but the village of Ezzera stood still—quiet, but no longer the same.
There was no celebration. No official announcement.And yet, change settled in.
The storage house was opened to the public, its inventory logs now rewritten in Yarra's careful, clear handwriting—meant to be read by all.
Tomas gathered the village youths each morning. Not to train them for war, but to keep the peace. To teach them to protect one another.
Mira still trembled when speaking in front of a crowd. But she stood. She answered questions from the capital couriers, listened to complaints, and slowly became a voice people turned to. They began calling her "The Voice from Below."Strange, perhaps—but no one laughed. The title came from a place of respect.
And yet, amid all that moved forward, one name lingered.Not spoken.Not sought.But never forgotten.
Reno.
He hadn't been seen since that night. Not in the kitchen. Not in the fields. Not even at Tomas's house.
The children asked. The mothers asked.But they all received the same quiet answer:
"Maybe he's done with this place."
One morning, while cleaning beneath the kitchen floorboards, Mira found a piece of paper tucked deep into a crack between the wooden planks.
It wasn't a letter.Not a confession.Just a list—of names.
Names of villagers who had been hurt.Names of children who lost their parents when supplies were cut.Names he must've heard, one by one, in silence.
And at the bottom, in faded ink, a single note:
"If you can stand without me, then my task is complete.But if one day you fall—don't look for me.Look for each other."
The paper now rests in a small wooden box in the kitchen.Not meant to be reread.Just… remembered.
Far from the village, in the cities of power, reports began to shift:
The Noctera route was reopened.Investigations into the western trade guilds were underway.And the name Aurelien started to circulate—praised as a "local reform initiator."
But Reno's name was never mentioned.
As it should be.
He was not a hero.Not a protagonist.Just a quiet hand that nudged the wheel—then let go once it began to spin on its own.
"Shadows need no spotlight.But no stage can ever stand without the shadows that hold it from behind the light."