The land grew quieter as the day moved on.
Not empty.
Just undisturbed.
Kael walked with an easy rhythm now.
No scanning the horizon.
No counting exits.
Lira noticed.
"You're not bracing anymore," she said softly.
Kael felt the truth of it.
There's nothing pushing back.
They crossed a shallow creek where stones sat firm beneath clear water.
Kael tested one step, then another.
Stable.
He crossed without hesitation.
The others followed.
Jon looked around as they climbed the far bank.
"It's strange," he said.
"I keep expecting something to happen."
Lira nodded.
"That's habit," she said.
"Not danger."
They moved through a stretch of low trees where sunlight filtered gently through leaves.
Birds didn't scatter.
Life didn't flinch.
Kael slowed, taking it in.
This was what had been missing before.
Not victory.
Room.
They stopped near a fallen log worn smooth by time.
Kael sat first.
Lira sat beside him.
The others settled nearby.
The pattern held—quiet, unforced.
Sera spoke after a while.
"If the Empire tried to come back… really come back…"
Kael felt the question form beneath her words.
What then?
His intent answered calmly.
They'd have to start by convincing people to wait again.
The Seer nodded.
"And that's harder than conquering land," he said.
"Because people remember now."
Lira leaned back, eyes closed.
"There's nothing left to resist," she said.
"And that's why it feels safe."
Kael felt the meaning settle.
Resistance had shaped them once.
But it no longer defined them.
They stood and continued walking as the light shifted toward evening.
No destination pulled at them.
No urgency pressed.
Just the road—
not as escape,
not as challenge,
but as a place to be.
And that was enough.