The wind was quieter now.
For the first time in weeks, the trail beneath our feet wasn't wild grass or cracked dirt but cobbled stones that had seen many strangers before us. It had been a week and a half since we left the village behind. Since the river stopped singing. Since she—our old friend—closed her eyes and let the world forget her.
I walked beside you in silence, watching how you kept looking forward without speaking. You hadn't said much since the farewell. Maybe the grief was still sitting in your chest like an unopened letter. Maybe it was too heavy to open just yet.
But then, the savior slowed his steps, brushing the back of his neck with an awkwardness that wasn't like him.
He glanced at you and finally said,
"You know... you never asked for my name."
You blinked, surprised. I turned, curious too—because now that I thought about it, he'd never offered it either. He had always just been "the savior," the kind of stranger who pulled you from the river's arms.
"It's Noel," he said, offering a faint smile. "Noel Estaire."
You paused, mouthing it like a secret.
"Noel..."
He nodded. "Feels weird saying it after all this time." Then his smile softened. "But if we're going to travel together a little longer... I figured you should know."
We didn't say much else after that. But I noticed it—the small change. Something in the way you walked beside him now. Like his name had added a thread between you two that wasn't there before.
Not long after, the path widened, and we finally saw it.
A quiet town nestled between the hills, surrounded by low stone walls and sleepy rooftops. It wasn't like the village we left. No shrines. No altars. Just ordinary homes with smoke curling from chimneys and clothes dancing on lines in the breeze.
Noel smiled at the sight.
"My brother lives here," he said. "We can rest for a few days before continuing to Lioria."
You tilted your head. "But I was thinking of heading back to Corporal Mireya."
"I know," he replied gently. "But… my brother's son is supposed to arrive soon. He's heading to Lioria too, and it'd be safer if you traveled together. Just wait until he shows up—three days at most."
You hesitated. But in the end, you nodded. A few more days wouldn't hurt. Especially after everything we'd been through.
The town welcomed us without fuss. The townspeople were simple and polite. They didn't recognize spirits in human skin, and no one stared too long. That was a quiet kind of peace too, wasn't it?
We stayed at a modest home tucked between the baker's shop and an old well. Noel's brother, a quiet man with the same eyes, greeted us kindly. He didn't ask much. Just let us rest, eat, and breathe without question.
And on the second day, he finally arrived.
The town's guard captain strolled in around noon, dust on his boots and wind in his hair. He wore a navy-blue coat trimmed with golden thread, and his posture spoke of discipline, though his eyes held a tired kind of curiosity.
Noel stood to greet him near the house gate, and you watched from the window as they exchanged a firm hug.
"Been a while, Gepard."
"You don't visit often, Uncle."
Uncle?
You blinked, surprised.
I floated closer and whispered, "That's his nephew, the city guard captain… his name's Gepard."
You stepped outside slowly, eyes curious.
When Gepard saw you, his brows lifted—only slightly. His gaze didn't linger too long, but something shifted. He looked at you the way people sometimes look at puzzle pieces that almost fit. Then, he offered a polite nod.
"You're the one my uncle mentioned."
You nodded back. "And you're the one heading to Lioria?"
He hummed. "I leave in two days. If you're coming, keep up."
His tone wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. Like someone used to wariness but not unkindness.
That night, we sat quietly outside the house, the moon casting silver over the quiet town. Noel leaned back against the wooden post, arms folded behind his head.
"Gepard's a good man," he said quietly. "He just doesn't show it right away. He's been through too much to wear his heart on his sleeve."
You nodded silently.
"Still," Noel added, looking toward the stars, "he reminds me of someone strong, stubborn, and always carrying things alone."
He glanced at you meaningfully but didn't say more.
I curled beside you on the windowsill, the night breeze brushing gently against our cheeks.
And maybe, just maybe—this town wasn't the end of the road. Just a small place where hearts passed by… and quietly changed.