The monastery still smelled faintly of frost and blood. The battle with Veyra had ended only hours before, but already the snow she'd conjured was melting into dark puddles between the stones. By a strange twist of fate, the next day was New Year's Eve — a date the world refused to postpone, no matter who had fallen.
Praise's friend insisted on holding the celebration anyway. By nightfall the main hall was hung with makeshift ribbons and flickering lanterns. Music spilled from a battered speaker, villagers and fighters mixing together over food and drink. Lammy was coaxed out of his shell and even Jed cracked a smile as he tried his first clumsy dance step.
For the first time in months, there was laughter instead of screams. They had taken down two of Dreadfang (Architect) lieutenants,People at the party called them heroes after drunk jed told the people everything that has happen to them this year. But the one who had led them sat apart from it all.
Prince had chosen a shadowed corner by the window. He held a cup of warm cider but barely tasted it. In his mind, Veyra's last words still echoed like a curse:
You are half demon. Your father is alive. The Fire Lord knows where he is.
Half demon. Father alive. Fire Lord. Each fragment shifted the ground under his feet. Who was he, really?
A gentle punch on his shoulder broke the spiral. "What's on your mind, DemigodofMind?" Praise asked with a crooked smile, her hair catching the lantern-light. "You're sitting here like it's a funeral."
Prince hesitated. "Do they all still love me… now that I'm half demon?"
For a heartbeat the noise of the hall faded. Praise's expression softened. She took his hand. "We all love you, no matter what you are," she said quietly. "You're our fearless leader. That won't change."
He exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Praise…"
Before he could say more she squeezed his hand and leaned in, kissing him. It was soft and sure, a promise amid the chaos. Around them the celebration roared on: music, laughter, the countdown to midnight.
Outside, fireworks cracked open the night sky, spilling red and gold against the peaks. But far beyond the light and sound, in a hidden chamber of rock and flame, another figure stirred.
Shadows clung to the hooded shape. Only a glimmer of eyes showed, reflecting firelight. A voice like burning paper whispered to no one:
"He doesn't yet know what he is."
The fire hissed low, and the eyes stayed open.
Back at the monastery, the crowd shouted the final numbers of the countdown. Ten. Nine. Eight. Praise and Prince stood together at the window, watching the sky explode. For the first time, Prince allowed himself to lean on her shoulder.
The New Year arrived with thunder and light — but also with the promise of a threat none of them could yet see.