Garima couldn't stay. She felt suffocated.
She gave a hurried nod— something that could pass for a goodbye. And walked out before anyone could stop her.
"Your Holiness–" Ava began.
Garima didn't stop.
The corridor ended. And the shrine doors came into view.
They were open.
Garima stepped through them.
She needed air, real air.
Outside. It was bright—but softer than she expected. It wasn't harsh. Or blinding.
For a moment, she just stood there.
Then she started walking.
No direction. No purpose.
Just away from everything.
Behind her, Priest Zihan followed.
Not close enough to intrude. Not far enough to lose her.
He didn't call out. Didn't speak.
Just walked.
A few minutes later—
She heard footsteps. Faster. Uneven.
Dylan.
He slowed when he reached Zihan. Slightly out of breath.
"Where is she going?" He whispered.
Zihan didn't look at him.
"She didn't say"
"Should we–"
"No"
Dylan frowned. "But—"
"She wants distance" Zihan said quietly "so we give her that"
Dylan went quiet.
Then he stayed.
Garima didn't look back.
Stone paths opened into wider alleys. The city unfolded slowly around her—wooden stalls. Cloth canopies. Small carved signs hanging loosely from their hooks. Shops lined on both sides of the road.
Stacked with Spices. Fabric. Metalwork. Meat. Fish. Vegetables.
Voices layered over each other.
Haggling. Laughter. Someone probably arguing about something that didn't matter.
Life.
People noticed her. Some stopped. Some bowed. Some smiled— wide, hopeful, reverent.
Others only glanced once and looked away.
Busy. Unbothered. Living their own lives.
She walked through all of it.
A child paused mid-run, staring at her.
Then grinned–the uncomplicated grin of someone innocent—and ran.
She passed a fruit stall. Bright colours stacked in uneven, impractical piles.
Passed a woman in the middle of a price argument she was clearly winning.
Passed a man repairing a broken wheel. Hands steady, focused. Not thinking about anything other than the thing in front of him.
No one waited for her here.
No one needed anything from her.
Not in this moment.
It was beautiful.
The city of Solmere breathed around her. Warm. Lived-in. Imperfect in a way the real things always are.
Alive in ways her plans could never fully account for.
Garima slowed slightly.
Behind her Zihan and Dylan kept their distance.
As silent shadows. Present but not interfering.
She turned to a narrower alley. Quieter. With fewer people.
Her steps slowed. Then stopped.
She exhaled—properly. Fully.
This is what I am trying to control" she thought
Not maps. Not systems.
People with lives that continued whether she planned them or not. People who deserved to keep going.
She didn't want the people here to know despair.
She wanted them to have more days like this one.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
Then loosened.
Behind her Dylan shifted his weight.
Zihan didn't move.
Garima didn't turn. Didn't acknowledge them. But she knew they were there.
She didn't send them away.
She stood still for a moment longer. Then she turned—something decided. And walked back the way she came.
The same streets. She walked slower this time. Actually looking.
A smile formed on Garima's lips. Then she started humming.
The fruit stall caught her eye again.
The vendor noticed her properly this time.
He froze — then straightened.
"Your Holiness–" He said.
Garima paused. He fumbled with a small drawer. Pulled out a small round fruit—deep violet with a faint silver sheen across its skin. And held it out.
"Please," he said. A little awkwardly. "Fresh from the eastern groves"
Garima looked at the fruit. Then at him.
He wasn't bowing deeply. Just—offering. Something ordinary.
Garima hesitated.
Then took it.
"Thankyou"
His face lit up— far more than the gesture deserved, exactly the right amount.
Garima walked on. Turning the fruit in her hand. It was still warm.
"It's a Velune Berry," Zihan said.
Garima felt them fall into step beside her— still keeping a respectful half-step distance.
She nodded.
"It has a tangy flavour," he continued. "During this time of the year, it tastes particularly refreshing"
"I can't wait to try it," Garima said.
A few steps later, an old woman was sitting outside a fabric stall, called out softly.
"Saintess"
Garima stopped.
The woman didn't stand. She just reached beside her and held out a small cloth.
A handkerchief. Soft. Light. The kind suitable for everyday use.
For a second Garima almost said no.
She didn't. She blinked.
Then stepped forward and took it.
"Thank You"
The woman smiled. Not reverent. Just–kind. She seemed glad.
Garima nodded her head at the lady and
kept walking.
"Have a good day," someone said.
"Blessings, Your Holiness" Another old lady called out.
Voices followed her now. Small greetings. A wave here. A nod there.
A baker leaned halfway out of his shop doorway as she passed.
"Wait—a moment."
Garima stopped almost instinctively.
He came forward holding a small warped piece.
"Morning batch," he said slightly out of breath. "Still warm."
She was running out of hands. She shifted the fruit to the crook of her elbow. And tied her handkerchief around her wrist and took it.
Unwarped it slightly.
A small dense loaf— golden brown, A crispy outer crust. It smelled of yeast and sugar.
"It's called harlen Laf" He added quickly. "Travelers take it. Keeps well on the road."
Garima nodded.
"Thank You"
He nodded, satisfied, and ducked back into his shop.
She just stood there for a moment— fruit in one arm, bread in the other. The handkerchief tied around her wrist— slightly ridiculous, not minding at all.
Behind her Dylan shifted slightly towards her.
"I can hold the Velune Berry," he offered.
"No, I can manage." Garima shook her head.
"..they really like you" he muttered under his breath.
Zihan said nothing.
Garima didn't react.
She walked on. Past more faces. More lives. More small, ordinary things happening in the way small ordinary things happened—without significance. Without anyone keeping track of it.
And slowly, without her noticing,something inside her eased.
They trust me. She realised.
Not because of prophecy. Or power.
Because she stood in front of them. Spoken to them. And something— small had changed.
Then I don't get to be careless.
She looked ahead. The shrine was already visible— its familiar outline against the sky.
Garima slowed her pace. Not much. Just enough.
Dylan and Zihan caught up to her.
Zihan's expression shifted—But he didn't say anything.
Dylan smiled. Simply.
And the three of them walked back to the Shrine together.