The orange hues of dusk slowly faded into the lavender tones of evening.
The town that once lay under the suffocating weight of corruption now hummed with soft laughter and the clinking of glasses.
The air was clean, crisp, and filled with warmth—not just from the bonfires dotting the streets, but from the collective heartbeat of people who had survived the impossible.
Inside one of the newly restored houses, Layla slowly fluttered her eyes open.
Her vision was blurry for a moment, the world spinning ever so gently. The soft scent of herbs and the cool brush of a damp cloth on her forehead grounded her. The first thing she saw was Noah, slumped in a chair beside her bed, arms crossed, eyes closed—but clearly alert.
She blinked.
"I'm… alive?"
His eyes opened instantly. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Of course you are. Did you think I'd let you die after everything?"
Layla exhaled deeply, her body still sore, but something inside her was calm.
Stable.
The chaotic fusion of corruption and curse had been balanced perfectly thanks to the awakened core Noah had given her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt whole.
"I had a dream…" she whispered, voice raspy. "I was standing in a garden of black roses, and you were there… chained but smiling."
Noah chuckled softly. "Not a dream. That was your domain, Layla."
She stared at him for a moment before letting out a soft laugh, then sat up—winced—and winced again.
"Easy," he said. "You absorbed enough corruption to turn a dragon into a vegetable. Just rest."
Layla smirked. "That's what makes me your bride, doesn't it?"
Before he could answer, a knock sounded on the door. Lyra peeked in, her long black coat lightly dusted with snowflakes. "She's awake? Good. Get her dressed. The town is waiting."
"Huh?" Layla blinked.
Lyra grinned. "They're throwing a celebration. For you. And all of us. They're calling it the Banquet of Hope."
Outside — In the Heart of the Village
By nightfall, the town had transformed into a place of light and laughter. Long wooden tables stretched across the main square, covered in food, flowers, and homemade wine. Lanterns of all shapes and colors floated in the sky, casting a dreamy glow over the cobblestone streets.
Children ran with ribbons tied to sticks, pretending to be heroes fighting off monsters.
Scarlett was organizing the shadow warriors, who had been reshaped by Noah into more humanoid, friendly figures. They now helped carry trays of food, serve drinks, and even played instruments to entertain.
Lyra had created shimmering ice sculptures of some of the heroes—Olivia, Scarlett, even Noah. One of Layla wielding her massive scythe in a dramatic pose stood in the center. Villagers were taking turns posing beside it.
As the music swelled, Layla finally stepped out into the open.
She wore a simple white dress, far removed from the twisted bridal gown of her domain, but still radiating elegance. Her amber eyes shimmered as the town's people saw her and immediately burst into applause.
"The Scythe Bride!" someone shouted.
"Lady Layla!"
"Thank you!"
People of all ages came to greet her, showering her with flowers, kind words, and even handmade gifts. Layla, who had once been feared for her curse, stood tall among them—not as a monster, but as a savior.
Olivia and Noah watched from the side.
"She's… smiling," Olivia said quietly.
"She deserves to," Noah replied.
The Church's Arrival… and Departure
But not all guests were welcomed.
A group of robed church members had arrived during the celebrations, their expressions solemn. As they made their way toward the center of the square, the mood shifted. The music stilled.
A hush fell.
Then—a tomato hit one of the priests square in the chest. A second later, an egg flew.
"You're too late!"
"Where were you when our children were dying?!"
"You come after it's safe? Cowards!"
The priests tried to calm the people, but it was hopeless. Their presence only reignited the trauma of the past few days. Finally, they turned to Olivia, standing with folded arms and a stern face.
"Lady Saintess, please," the senior priest pleaded.
"I'm not here to silence them," Olivia said coldly. "They speak the truth. You didn't come when they needed you most. If you want forgiveness, don't ask for it—earn it."
The church members bowed and left quietly, vanishing into the night.
The music picked up again moments later, louder this time, almost defiantly.
The Night of Unity
As the night deepened, so did the celebration.
Noah joined the others eventually, teasing Scarlett about her cooking skills, listening to Lyra complain about kids pulling her hair, and even being dragged into a dance by Layla.
Her laughter echoed like bells, carefree and loud.
At one point, Olivia raised a glass. "To the fallen, to the living, and to the ones who stood between!"
Everyone lifted their drinks high.
"To hope!"
"To unity!"
"To survival!"
Bonfires blazed.
Stories were told.
Some cried.
Some kissed.
Some danced until their feet gave out.
Noah, sitting with Layla beside one of the fires, finally whispered, "We won, didn't we?"
Layla leaned against his shoulder. "No. We lived. And that's better."
-To be continued...