The silence that followed the remembrance was not the silence of an ended thing, but of a shared breath held. Then, as one, the crowd began to move again, the spell broken. But the quality of the movement had changed. There was a slowness to it, a thoughtfulness. People didn't jostle or chatter loudly. They spoke in hushed tones, touched each other's arms, shared looks of deep understanding. They dispersed not as a crowd after a spectacle, but as a congregation after a service, carrying a piece of the sanctity with them into their daily lives.
Elara felt drained, hollowed out in the best way. She had been a conduit, and the passing of that immense emotional truth had left her light and clean. Lysander, Corvin, and Seraphine gathered around her. No one said anything. Lysander placed a hand on her shoulder. Corvin gave a single, firm nod. Seraphine simply smiled, her eyes shining. They had felt it too, their own experiences reflected and validated in the shared emotion of the square.
