The village was alive again.
Children's laughter carried across the square. Smoke curled from new chimneys. The river, once red with blood, now ran clear. The air smelled not of ash and venom but of bread baking and cut wood.
The koi floated in his bowl near Brandon's window, basking in sunlight. He had almost grown used to peace. A rhythm without roars or screams. A rhythm filled with May's humming as she tidied, Brandon's chuckle when she teased him, Frostwing's feathers rustling as she stretched her healing wing.
Stranger than battles. Stranger than dying and reviving. Watching life bloom again was almost alien.
But the System never tolerated calm.
[Legendary Task: Status Check]
[Bond intact. Target: Emerald Peak. Status: Delayed.]
[Warning: Delay risk ↑]
The koi flicked his tail. Delayed? Brandon still heals.
[Correction: Physical recovery > 80%. Delay factor not physical.]
[Cause: Emotional anchor. Identified: May.]
[Projection: Failure risk ↑↑]
The koi's gills froze. May—the girl with ash in her hair, the woman whose voice steadied Brandon through fever, whose hands had kept him alive.
It wasn't wrong. Brandon had changed. His resolve once burned sharp, a blade honed for Emerald Peak. Now it carried softness. A hesitation. A longing for something quieter.
The koi had seen it in their eyes. Gratitude had grown into something else. They had built something together that the koi could never give.
[Observation: Bonds of affection alter priority. In high-risk scenarios, Tamer may retreat to preserve anchor.]
Despair clung like mud. Was May an anchor—or a chain?
Then memory rose: Mari's laughter. Ian's red cord. Bonds fragile yet strong enough to push him forward even after they were gone.
No.
The koi lashed his tail. I won't doubt him. Brandon believed in me when no one else would. He caught a prophecy that wasn't real and never asked for proof. He just believed. So I'll believe in him.
[Counterpoint logged.]
[System stance: unchanged.]
The koi ignored it. Logic could not measure faith.
—
Seasons turned. The ruins knit back together. Children laughed without fear. Brandon sparred again, scars stiff but strength returning. Frostwing's wing mended crooked but firm. May never left his side.
And Brandon smiled more—soft smiles, drawn not by destiny but by her.
The koi sensed it: Brandon's gaze softened in daylight, but at night his eyes still found the mountain, its cloud crown glowing faint in the dark. His heart was split—but not gone.
—
One dawn, the choice came.
The koi felt it before Brandon spoke. Resolve sharpened again in the bond, sudden, clear, a blade pulled free of its sheath.
Brandon stood in the doorway, spear strapped across his back, Frostwing at his side. The koi's water trembled with anticipation.
"May," Brandon said, voice firm. "It's time."
May stilled, not surprised—only aching. She had known this tide would come.
Brandon stepped close, took her hands, pressed them against his chest. His heartbeat was strong now, iron steady. "Emerald Peak waits for no one. The dragon waits for no one. But I swear to you—I will come back. Alive."
Her breath hitched. "Alive," she whispered back.
For a moment they stood forehead to forehead, silence heavy with every unsaid memory: fever nights, trembling hands, laughter reborn. Brandon brushed the ash-gray strands from her brow. "You pulled me from death. I'll carry that with me—and bring it back to you."
May's eyes shone. "Then I'll wait. No matter how long. No matter what."
He kissed her forehead, reverent, sealing a covenant. Frostwing bowed her head. Even the koi felt the vow settle like stone into water.
Brandon turned toward the road, then paused halfway. Something in him refused to leave without one more anchor. He looked back.
May stood framed in morning light. One hand rested over her stomach. Her smile was not sad—it was a mother's smile, soft and unshakable.
Brandon froze. His breath caught. For a heartbeat he nearly faltered. Then he straightened, nodded, and said with iron carved from love, "Then I have more than one reason to return."
No tears. Only silence stronger than grief.
Frostwing spread her wings. The koi braced in the bowl. The path to Emerald Peak stretched sharp and merciless.
Behind them, May remained in the doorway, hand over her belly, her smile a beacon meant for his return.
The koi shivered. The System whispered of failure. He silenced it with one thought, beating like a drum in his chest:
Brandon will return. He must.
And with that vow woven tighter than any chain, they departed toward the mountain.