Rhydian;
Someone nearly walks into me before realising who I am and stumbling back with a rushed apology. I don't answer him. I just shift the basket of fruits slightly in my grip and keep walking, stepping around a spilt tray of grains as two boys argue over who dropped it.
Gravemaw is loud today.
Not the chaotic or careless type of loudness. The kingdom is just… alive in a way it hasn't been in a long time.
Everywhere I look, people are moving with purpose.
Women stringing flowers across wooden beams, men hauling barrels toward the central square, and some children running between them—laughing too loudly, getting in the way and being chased off only to return moments later.
The air smells like crushed petals, roasted meat, and something sweet I can't quite place.
The New Harvest Festival.
The first festival since the attack.
That matters more than anyone is saying out loud.
