The day passed in a blur.
With the Hero's Festival finally here, every corner of Deimos was overflowing with last-minute work. Amelia spent most of the morning doing paperwork and filling things out for Duke Grandal. While Ryn helped Baron Deimos out with the security planning of the festival.
By late afternoon, the village had transformed completely.
Rows of lanterns hung across the streets like floating stars. Stalls lit their first candles, signalling that they were open.
Musicians tuned instruments near the plaza as the sun dipped below the horizon.
And when night finally arrived…
Deimos glowed.
Warm lights shimmered off rooftops, soft colors danced along the stone paths, and laughter echoed beneath a sky scattered with stars.
Ryn stepped out of his room, he paused.
He wore the traditional 'Hero's Garb', a light festival robe of black cloth threaded with thin silver pinstripes, tied cleanly with a steel-purple sash at his waist.
The fabric was simple, breathable, and foreign in design… but comfortable in a way he couldn't quite explain.
Ryn exhaled once.
Then he looked up—
—and froze.
Amelia stood waiting for him in the lantern-lit courtyard.
Her Hero's Garb was a soft pink robe, patterned with faint floral motifs that shimmered with white-gold highlights whenever she moved. The sash tied around her waist was elegant and neat, matching the ribbon that pulled her hair into a loose, graceful style.
She looked every part the festival's heartbeat.
"Ryn…?" she said softly.
He swallowed. "Yeah."
She blinked once, then again—slowly taking him in, from the pinstripes to the sash to the way the robe framed his silhouette.
"You look…" Her voice trailed off, heat blooming across her cheeks.
"…really good."
Ryn's pulse stuttered.
"You look… really good too."
The lanterns swayed overhead, casting gold across her features. For a moment, neither spoke. The world felt quiet—just the two of them and the warm night breeze.
Amelia brushed a hand along her sleeve.
"Did you know," she began softly, "that these robes came from the first Hero?"
Ryn raised a brow. "They did?"
"Mhm." She stepped a little closer, the pink fabric rustling gently.
"Records say he introduced them during the very first festival. No one recognized the style, but he insisted everyone wear them to celebrate."
Her eyes flickered with gentle curiosity.
A thought flickered in Ryn's mind.
The First Hero… maybe there's more to him than the stories say
Before the thought could settle fully, Amelia stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his lightly.
"So," she murmured, smiling under the lantern light, "shall we go?"
Ryn found himself smiling back.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Let's go."
They walked toward the festival together, shadows merging beneath drifting lanterns as music and laughter filled the warm night sky.
Ryn and Amelia stepped into the heart of it all.
They stopped by a stall where wooden buckets held shimmering river fish beneath lantern light. The gamekeeper handed them paper scoops, grinning.
"Catch one, you keep it!"
Ryn crouched down, studying the fish like they were high-rank monsters.
"You're taking this too seriously," Amelia whispered, barely holding in a laugh.
"I refuse to lose to a fish," he muttered.
As soon as his scoop dipped, the paper instantly tore. The fish swam away, pausing for a while as if to taunt him.
Amelia burst out laughing.
She tried next. Her scoop wobbled—slightly too slow—and then a fish leapt straight into the bucket rim and slid into her cup by accident.
The stall owner blinked. "…Well, that counts."
Ryn stared at her. "…No way."
Amelia puffed her chest proudly. "Talent."
He couldn't deny it.
She released the fish back into the pond, Ryn paid the gamekeeper and went on their way.
A row of stalls glistened with red, lacquer-like apples on sticks. Amelia stopped immediately, eyes sparkling.
"I want that one," she said, pointing at the biggest one.
Ryn raised a brow. "You're sure? That's—"
Too late. She was already paying.
She bit into it with all the enthusiasm of someone fighting a boss monster. The sugary coating cracked and immediately stuck on her cheek.
Ryn burst out laughing as Amelia tilted her head in confusion.
With a helpless smile, he reached out and brushed the sugar from her cheek with his thumb.
Amelia froze.
Ryn froze a beat later.
"…It was going to get itchy," he said quietly.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "…Thanks."
They walked on, suddenly much closer than before.
A crowd formed around a raised wooden platform where a massive drum—almost taller than a man—sat anchored. Performers in Hero's Garb stepped forward, lifting their drumsticks.
They both joined the crowd, waiting for the performance to start.
BOOM.
The first strike rippled through the plaza like thunder.
Rhythmic, pulsing, alive.
Ryn and Amelia stood shoulder-to-shoulder as the drummers moved in unison, the lanterns swaying overhead like they too felt the beat. Vibrations traveled through the ground, up Ryn's legs, into his chest.
Amelia leaned closer to speak over the sound.
"This is my favorite part of the festival," she said, eyes bright. "It's supposed to mimic the heartbeat of the first Hero."
Ryn watched the performers as their powerful strikes resounded across the theater.
"Fits him," he murmured.
Amelia smiled. "Fits you too, actually."
Ryn opened his mouth to respond— But another drumbeat shook through him, stealing the words.
They stood together in comfortable silence, lantern light painting gold along Amelia's profile.
After the performance ended, they left the crowd behind, wandering down a quiet street lined with small paper lanterns. They all held some type of message, usually desires or wishes to the gods, asking for good luck.
Children ran past holding sparklers. Amelia's robe brushed his sleeve.
Ryn glanced sideways.
She was smiling softly, almost shyly, as she looked at the lanterns.
"This," she whispered, "is the kind of night I wish we had more often."
Ryn swallowed.
"…Me too."
They stopped at the top of a small hill overlooking the lit village. Lanterns shimmered below like constellations pinned to the earth.
Ryn let out a quiet breath.
"Not bad," he murmured. "For my first real festival."
Amelia nudged him gently with her shoulder. "You're welcome."
He laughed softly.
And then—
A distant whistle shot into the sky.
Both of them looked up.
A firework had exploded in the sky, painting all types of different pictures.
The night breeze brushed past them.
Amelia stood beside Ryn, hands tucked behind her back, her pink garb fluttering softly around her knees.
"It's beautiful…" she murmured.
Ryn nodded. "Yeah."
She glanced sideways. "Not the village, Ryn. I mean… today."
He blinked. "Today?"
"Mhm." She faced the view again, voice quiet. "All the things we did. The fish, the drum performance, the food stalls… It's the first time in a long while I felt like things were normal."
Ryn looked down at her.
Normal.
He had almost forgotten what that meant.
"…Sorry," he said suddenly.
Amelia blinked. "For what?"
"For making things dangerous. Complicated." He hesitated.
"For pulling you into my mess."
She turned fully toward him, lantern-light catching the soft gold in her eyes.
"Ryn," she said, almost scolding, "I walked into your mess with both feet. Don't take all the blame."
He exhaled, a small, helpless smile forming. "That doesn't make me feel better."
"It should," she replied lightly.
A quiet beat passed.
Then Amelia's shoulders loosened, and her voice softened further.
"You know… I'm glad you're here. At the festival. With me."
Ryn's breath caught.
For a second, he forgot the lanterns, forgot the crowds, forgot the distant preparations.
"…Me too," he said quietly.
Amelia stepped a little closer, the pink floral patterns of her robe brushing against his black pinstripes. Her eyes lifted to meet his—gentle, warm, searching.
"Then… when you come back from Lumen," she whispered, "let's make more days like this."
Ryn swallowed.
"…Yeah. Let's."
Amelia smiled, small and genuine.
Ryn felt Amelia's hand graze his.
She didn't take it.
Not yet.
She simply let her fingers rest close enough for him to feel their warmth.
"Ryn," she murmured.
He looked at her.
"Can I…" she whispered, voice trembling with something fragile and earnest, "stay… like this? Just a little longer?"
FWWWHOOM—
The biggest firework tore into the sky.
Light bloomed across the darkness a heartbeat later, painting both their faces in bursts of gold and crimson.
Her lips parted, just slightly—
He swallowed, the warmth in his chest rising almost painfully.
"You don't have to ask," he said quietly.
Amelia's breath left her in a soft tremor, relief and emotion mixing in her eyes — and that was all it took.
Ryn leaned in. Slowly, like a promise he didn't want to break.
And Amelia met him halfway.
Their lips touched, warm and feather-soft—a kiss that came from the deep comfort they both had in each other.
Her free hand brushed along his jaw, trembling slightly. Ryn's fingers curled around her waist without thinking, holding her close as the fireworks blossomed again above them.
For a moment, the world fell away.
No cult, no danger, no future burdens.
Just Ryn and Amelia.
Just the night sky exploding in color around them.
When they finally pulled apart, Amelia stayed close, her forehead resting lightly against his. Her cheeks glowed—part lantern light, part unspoken joy.
"…That was…" she whispered, breath unsteady.
Ryn let out a soft laugh. "Yeah. It was."
A final firework burst high above them, raining silver sparks across the dark.
Amelia looked up at him, smile gentle and full.
"Happy Hero's Festival, Ryn."
He smiled back—really smiled.
"Happy Hero's Festival, Amelia."
Amelia's smile lingered as she looked at him, eyes softer than the lanterns below. Ryn held the moment a little tighter, knowing the night wouldn't last forever.
For now, though—
It was enough.