The ridge had turned into a village's altar.
Ash still clung to the seams of the earth, but torches burned where shadows had been. The villagers set long tables across broken ground, planks hammered from wagons and doors, covered with bread, smoked meat, and bowls of broth that steamed against the cold. It wasn't feast so much as vigil—every cheer cracked with disbelief, every prayer threaded with exhaustion.
Andy sat with the Oathblade resting near his knee, blade wrapped in cloth so children wouldn't cut their eyes on it. Aura dimmed low, dragon heat folded inward like a hearth banked for the night. Even then, villagers glanced at him like men glance at fire: grateful, reverent, a little afraid.
One farmer raised a cup, hand trembling. "To the Dragon-blooded!"
The cheer went ragged and strong at once.
"To the Saint of Light!" another cried, voice breaking as he gestured toward Nia, who sat straight-backed, silver hair glinting like a lantern in torchlight. Children clutched at her sleeves, whispering prayers they didn't know the words for. She touched each head, patient, her staff across her lap like a quiet benediction.
"And the Silver Huntress!"
Aurelia was perched on the cart's rim, one boot swinging, goblet of wine tipped lazily in her hand. She raised it with a grin sharp enough to cut. Villagers laughed nervously, charmed against their will. She winked at Andy before draining the cup, licking a drop from her lip in deliberate mockery of reverence.
---
Nia's gaze followed that motion. Cool. Steady. Possessive.
"You could try to be serious," she murmured once the villagers were distracted by another toast.
Aurelia stretched, her dagger dancing across her fingers, catching firelight. "I'm very serious. About him." She tipped her chin toward Andy, bold as a challenge.
Nia's staff clicked once against the ground, a sound like a line being drawn. "He is not a trophy."
Aurelia's smile widened. "No. He's the prize you're already sharing."
Andy exhaled through his nose, calm, watching the villagers, letting their hope weigh heavier than their rivalry. He didn't intervene—some storms had to roll their thunder before they remembered rain.
---
The system stirred, as if enjoying the spectacle as much as the villagers.
[Constellation Sync — Orion]
Nia ⭐ 91% | Aurelia ⭐ 86%
Combined: 100% (Stable)
Buffs active: Dragon Resonance II | Shared Inventory Expanded
Status: Rivalry fueling bond progression
---
An elder approached the trio, his hands wrinkled, eyes wet with gratitude. "We called the Maker," he whispered. "He did not answer. But you did."
Andy placed a steady hand on the man's shoulder. "Then listen to your own prayers. They're the ones that brought us here."
The man nodded, shaking, then bowed too low for comfort. Nia rose to ease him upright, her presence a wall of grace. Aurelia only smirked, knocking her goblet against Andy's knee with casual disrespect.
"See?" she teased. "They'd crown you tomorrow. I could be queen by breakfast."
"Try," Nia said, her voice silk wrapped over steel.
The tension snapped like a bowstring pulled too tight—neither strike nor retreat, just the hum of potential. The villagers didn't notice; they were too busy singing a broken hymn, voices raw, hopeful.
Andy let his aura breathe outward for a moment, a quiet pressure that smoothed the edges of the night. The women felt it and, grudgingly, their words dulled into silence.
The sky above cracked faintly, corruption still bleeding in the distance. The victory was real. The war was not over.
But for tonight, they sat in the ash of triumph, three across the ridge—one calm blade, one steadfast light, one laughing moon—while villagers whispered new prayers and children dared to sleep without fear.
---
[Bond Pulse ↑]
Orion Tier III Progress: 5%
Shared Resonance: Dormant
Note: Rivalry detected as growth vector
And the night, though restless, endured.