The night was about to end.
In the center of the village, a massive bonfire roared, sparks flying into the star-filled sky.
This was the climax of the festival, the ritual dance.
People moved around the fire, their faces glowing in the warm light.
They danced with their loved ones, their friends, their children.
No one cared about form or steps. They just moved with the beat messy, wild, joyous.
Azrael stood at the edge of the square.
There were still stares on him, but softer now, full of gratitude.
For once, it did not feel like he was alone.
His whole party was there: Kaelen, Seraphina, Orion, Lyra, Isolde, Selvara, and Elvara.
Not just students anymore.
In the eyes of the villagers, they were heroes.
The air was thick with the smell of smoke and cheap ale.
People laughed, stumbled, shouted.
Children ran between the dancers like sparks themselves.
For Azrael, it felt foreign.
He had not been part of something like this for years.
