Peace has a strange sound.
After so long hearing thunder, portals opening, and gods screaming, the silence felt… frightening.
The sky was finally clear. No golden glow, no dimensional rifts, no "Tuesday catastrophic event."
Just a gentle breeze and the distant sound of the city trying to return to normal.
"It's all… too quiet," said Vespera, lying on the tavern's new roof.
Torin shouted from inside, "And it'll stay quiet if no one falls on it again!"
Liriel laughed, sitting beside me. "Looks like he finally learned to forgive us."
"I doubt it. He just got tired of complaining."
Celine stood behind us, watching the horizon.
She still looked weak, but there was something different — a serene glow, more human, less divine.
"You destroyed the throne," she said, her tone a mix of guilt and relief. "And yet, the balance remained. How?"
Liriel smiled. "Maybe the balance was never up there. It was always here."
"In mortals?" asked Celine.
"In their mistakes. And in the courage to keep making them."
Elara came down the tavern stairs, the grimoire under her arm. "Speaking of mistakes, I found out that the throne's explosion opened dozens of micro-rifts in the ethereal plane."
"In summary?" I asked.
"In summary, if someone sneezes too hard, they might open another portal."
"Excellent," I sighed. "At least it's not the end of the world. Again."
Hours passed. Afternoon turned to night.
And for the first time in a long while, the group was together, whole, and alive — or almost.
Torin brought a new bottle and poured everyone a drink.
"You saved the world. Again. And by some miracle, you didn't destroy my counter this time."
"This time," Vespera emphasized.
Laughter filled the room.
But amid the cheerful noise, Celine remained silent.
She stared at her cup, motionless, as if weighing every word before speaking.
Liriel noticed.
"You'll choke if you keep staring like that."
"I don't know what to say," Celine whispered.
"Start with 'thank you.'"
"'Thank you' isn't enough."
She stood up. Everyone went silent.
Celine looked at the group, then at Liriel.
"For centuries, I served the throne believing that order was the answer. That if I controlled everything, nothing would be lost. And in the end, I lost myself. I wanted to be loved, admired… I wanted to be you."
Liriel raised an eyebrow. "You should aim higher."
"I just wanted to understand what made you so… alive."
"Mistakes. I make a lot of them."
"And yet, they follow you."
For a moment, Celine was silent. Then, with a firm voice, she said:
"Liriel… I'm sorry. For everything. For hunting you, for judging you, for forgetting what it meant to be human."
The tavern went completely quiet.
Even Torin, who was cleaning glasses, stopped.
Liriel took a deep breath.
"Celine… do you want to know the truth?"
"I do."
"I hated you too, for a while."
Celine lifted her eyes, surprised.
"I thought you were arrogant, cold, unbearable. But now I see it was just fear. The same fear I've always had — the fear of not being enough."
They stood face to face. The firelight flickered between them.
"Do you forgive me?" asked Celine.
"I forgave you long before you asked."
The silence that followed was beautiful — the kind that doesn't need words, only presence.
And when Liriel embraced her, the entire air seemed lighter.
Elara sighed, moved. "I knew this arc would have a hug."
"You talk like our life's a book," said Vespera.
"Isn't it?"
"It's more of a tragic comedy, if you think about it."
Liriel released the hug and laughed. "You two talk too much."
"It's balance," I said. "You talk little, we make up for it."
Later, Celine and Liriel went for a walk outside.
The sky was clear, dotted with stars.
The moon reflected on the water of the lake, and the two sat by the shore in silence.
"Remember when I used to say the mortal world was too imperfect?" asked Celine.
"Yes. And I used to say that's what made it beautiful."
"Now I understand."
She picked up a stone and tossed it into the water. "It hurts, you know? To feel."
"Welcome to humanity."
"I'm not sure I want to stay."
"Then stay until you do."
Celine looked at her thoughtfully. "And you? Now that you have a body again… what will you do?"
"Live. My way. Maybe help where I can. Maybe cause a little trouble too."
"Of course you will."
The two laughed.
It was a sincere laugh, the kind that seems to heal something invisible.
Back at the tavern, Elara had her grimoire open, scribbling formulas.
"Are you studying again?" I asked.
"Yes. I want to understand how the plane reacted after the fusion. There's something new emerging."
"Like what?"
"Like a living energy in the air. As if the sky and the earth are finally talking to each other."
Vespera yawned. "If that means less apocalypse and more wine, I'm in."
"You're incorrigible," said Elara.
"And charming."
"That's debatable."
Liriel and Celine entered soon after, smiling.
"So?" I asked. "Everything fine between you two?"
"Let's just say we made peace," Liriel replied. "She promised not to try reorganizing the universe for at least a century."
"I promise a hundred years of vacation from perfection," Celine confirmed, with a slight smile.
Torin, ever practical, placed two glasses on the table. "Toast with mortal wine. It cures any repentant deity."
The two exchanged glances, toasted, and drank.
The golden glow in Celine's eyes slowly faded, replaced by a warm, human color.
Elara watched the scene with admiration. "I never thought I'd see two goddesses laughing in my tavern."
"Don't get used to it," warned Liriel. "Chaos needs to rest every now and then."
"And when it doesn't rest?" I asked.
"Then we improvise."
Later, the whole group went out to the balcony.
The sky was full of stars, and the air carried the scent of wet earth.
Liriel sat on the railing, legs swinging, gaze distant.
"I spent so long trying to understand what it meant to be a goddess... and in the end, I discovered it was just a word."
"And what does it mean to you now?" I asked.
"It means having the chance to choose. Even if you choose wrong."
Celine looked at her. "Then we're the same now."
"Almost," replied Liriel. "You're still the one responsible for fixing the sky."
"And you?"
"I'll stay here. Someone has to stop Takumi from dying while trying to look like a hero."
"Impossible mission," murmured Vespera.
"That's why she likes it so much," Elara replied.
Liriel just smiled and glanced at me.
"Thank you," she said simply.
"For what?"
"For not giving up. On me. On the world. On anything."
"It's more stubbornness than kindness."
"Then never lose that stubbornness."
Above, the clouds still carried golden traces of the ancient palace.
Celine stood up and raised her hands. Small sparks of light rose from her fingers, spreading across the sky.
"Fragments of the throne," she explained. "They'll scatter and give new shape to the stars."
"Are you rebuilding paradise?" asked Vespera.
"No. Just... redecorating the firmament."
"I like that," said Liriel. "Now the sky will remember it once fell, but stood up again."
Celine smiled. "Like all of us."
That night, before sleeping, Liriel gazed out the window.
The moon illuminated the room, and its reflection trembled on the glass.
"I used to think gods were eternal," she said softly.
"And they're not?" I asked.
"No. They only stay alive as long as someone believes in them. And, strangely enough, you all made me believe in myself again."
She turned, laughing lightly.
"But, just for the record, I'm still a goddess. So don't you dare be disrespectful."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Not 'ma'am.' 'Liriel' will do."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy like before. It was light, familiar.
Outside, the newly born stars shimmered — blue and gold, like the powers that had almost destroyed the world.
But now, they shone in harmony.
And perhaps, for the first time since the beginning, everything was exactly as it should be.
In the end, forgiveness didn't come with tears or promises.
It came with laughter, wine, and the simple act of staying together.
And somehow, that felt divine enough.