The road away from Greymoor was quieter than it had any right to be. The city still smoldered in the distance, acrid smoke rising from broken towers, but the horrors had retreated with the Unraveler. For the first time in days, no cursed seams pursued them. The silence pressed heavy, broken only by the creak of cartwheels, the crunch of boots on gravel, and the faint chirp of birds reclaiming their songs. Even the wind carried the scent of char and salt, tugging at Nyra's memory of the nightmarish fight.
Nyra walked slowly, her hand brushing Button's arm. He carried most of their packs, lumbering as steady as ever, but his button eyes flicked toward her every few steps, as though checking she hadn't unraveled along with the beasts. His seams glowed faintly in the morning light, and she drew comfort from their steadiness.
Tovan cleared his throat, trying for a lighter tone to chase off the weight of silence. "You know… I think we deserve a breather. Maybe someplace with flowers instead of fangs. I'd settle for a roof that doesn't collapse." He tried to grin, though his hand lingered on his sword hilt out of habit.
As if fate heard him, the road bent into a valley painted with blooms. Golden fields spilled into a riot of wildflowers—scarlet poppies, violet irises, and pale buttercups swaying like a living tide. A village stretched along its edge, cottages half-hidden beneath cascades of wisteria and roses that draped from eaves in heavy curtains of color. Petals drifted in the breeze like confetti, and the air smelled sweet, like honey and spring rain. Bright banners in pinks and yellows fluttered from every post, declaring the annual Blossom Festival. Music drifted faintly, the strains of fiddles and flutes mingling with the hum of bees. Laughter carried on the breeze, and the air almost seemed to hum with joy.
Puff squealed, spinning midair with sparks crackling from his seams. "Festival means food! Fried food! Sweet food! Food now!"
Biscuit flapped his wings and puffed up his stitched mane as though announcing their arrival. "Victory parade for us! Make way for champions!"
Sprout slithered in slow approval, his vines brushing over a patch of daisies as though tasting their life. "Flowers… good. Better than ashes. Much better."
Button rumbled faintly, as though relieved to be somewhere that smelled of pollen and sugar rather than blood.
The villagers welcomed them warmly. Word of Nyra's fight in Greymoor had traveled faster than their feet, but here the news was retold with awe instead of fear. Women pressed wreaths of flowers into Nyra's hands, men clapped Tovan's shoulders, and children squealed at the sight of Button. Some even tried to climb him like a maypole until he stepped back stiffly, refusing. Only when Nyra gave him a gentle nod did he crouch down, letting them clamber onto his arms with squeals of delight. His button eyes softened faintly, reflecting lantern-light like a smile.
Nyra laughed softly, brushing petals from her hair. For the first time in days, her shoulders eased, and she allowed herself to simply breathe in the sweetness of roasted nuts, candied fruit, and flower honey wafting from market stalls.
Tovan, however, found himself cornered by a group of giggling festival-goers. They shoved a garland over his head and pushed a painted dartboard at him. "Try your luck, traveler!" He sputtered but played along, grumbling when Biscuit heckled him loudly every time he missed. Puff darted around, trying to snatch fried fritters from baskets until Sprout coiled one vine around his middle and hauled him back like a naughty child. Even Button gave a faint rumble that might have been amusement as Nyra leaned against him, hiding her laughter in his stitched arm.
"He's hopeless," she murmured fondly, watching Tovan pretend to sulk after missing yet again.
Later, as the lanterns lit and music filled the air, Tovan found Nyra sitting on the edge of a fountain. Paper lanterns floated in the water, each carrying painted wishes—love, luck, or healing—downstream toward the lake. Nyra's silver thread glimmered faintly as she idly stitched a flower charm for a child, her hands calm for once. The child squealed in delight, darting away with the glowing trinket.
Tovan sat beside her, quieter now. He studied the threads curling faintly around her fingers, then the soft exhaustion in her face. "You've been carrying the weight of this whole world," he said. "But you're still making charms for children."
Nyra smiled faintly. "It's easier than carrying the weight alone."
He hesitated, then pulled a small pouch from his belt. "I've been putting aside some of our guild rewards. For you. For when you want your shop, your sanctuary. You're building something bigger than any of us."
Her eyes widened, the lamplight glimmering on the tears she quickly blinked away. "Tovan, you—"
He shrugged awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't make a big deal of it. Just… think of it as an investment. Or insurance. You're the kind who'd spend every coin on thread and biscuits otherwise."
Nyra's heart swelled, though she masked it with teasing. "If you're my investor, does that make Button the shop's bouncer?"
Button loomed behind them, folding his arms with grave dignity. Puff puffed up and chimed, "And me the chef!" Biscuit spread his wings wide, declaring himself mascot, while Sprout muttered darkly about being treasurer. Nyra laughed so hard she nearly dropped her spool, and even Tovan cracked a rare smile. Laughter bubbled between them until Nyra's eyes misted.
For once, the threads inside her were still—woven not by fear or curses, but by friendship.
As the festival wound down, villagers released flower lanterns into the night sky. Hundreds rose at once, drifting upward like stars reborn. Music softened to gentle strings, and couples danced in the square, their steps light among the petals scattered on cobblestones.
Nyra stood apart for a moment, gazing toward the treeline. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw a ripple of shadow, threads coiling and then vanishing. Her chest tightened. The Unraveler was still watching. Still waiting.
But then a child tugged her hand, holding up the stitched flower charm she had made. "Thank you, miss!"
Nyra crouched to pat their head, smiling softly, pushing the shadows from her mind. Tonight was for flowers, laughter, roasted sweets, and the fragile threads of the heart that bound them all together.