The rain had been falling for a while now.
Sera stood in the middle of it, arms spread. Her dress was soaked. She spun once, slipped in the mud, and started laughing. Not a loud laugh. The kind that starts in your chest and leaks out slow.
Lira watched her from the porch. She laughed too. Real this time. She held Tel close, but her shoulders shook. "She's always loved the rain," she said. "Even now."
Marra was in the fields. Her hands were in the soil, dark and wet. She didn't say much. Just pressed her fingers deeper into the ground and gave a small nod.
"It's holding together," she said. "Better than before."
By the brazier, Eldric kept his eyes closed. The fire hissed under the rain but didn't go out.
"It wasn't a spell," he said. "And it wasn't luck."
Mirelle moved past him, empty basket swinging from her arm. She looked up at the sky.
"It came late," she said. "But it came when we needed it."
Bran stood near the forge. The roof was leaking again. He sighed, wiped his face, and muttered, "Better than dry silence."
Elric was at the gate. He hadn't said much since the shield faded. His grip on the spear was tight.
"He waited," he said. "Watched. Then acted. That's enough for me."
No one argued. No one praised him either. The shrine glowed steady. The flame still burned.
Life moved.
Not fast. Not easy.
But it moved.
Elric walked the wall, boots splashing through puddles. The spear in his hand was splintered. He'd wrapped it in leather strips the night before, but it still felt weak.
He paused near the north corner. From there, he could see the trees. The mist hadn't come back yet. That meant time. Not much, but some.
Behind him, Mirelle leaned against the fence. Her basket was full of damp roots, some bent, some broken.
"Not enough for a brew," she said. "Maybe enough to boil down."
Elric didn't answer. He just watched the tree line.
Mirelle followed his eyes. "You still expect them?"
"I don't trust peace that comes too easy."
She shrugged. "Maybe it's not peace. Maybe it's just a breath."
He didn't look away. "We've had those before. They never last."
Inside the hut, Lira rocked Tel in her arms. The baby was sleeping now. His tiny chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the rain.
Sera sat near the fire, clothes still wet. She held a flat stone in her lap, tracing the raindrops that landed on it.
"Is the rain always warm?" she asked.
Lira smiled. "No. But this kind is."
Sera didn't answer. She leaned back, eyes on the rafters. One of them dripped.
Marra pulled weeds from the edge of her plot. The mud sucked at her shoes. Her sleeves were rolled to the elbow.
Bran came over, hammer in one hand, tarp in the other.
"You should take a break."
Marra looked up. "There's no one else planting."
He crouched next to her, set the tarp down.
"I fixed the hinge on your tool box," he said.
She gave him a tired smile. "That why you're out in the rain?"
"No. I like seeing something that's not broken for once."
The shrine pulsed. Just once. A soft light. Like a lantern behind cloth.
Eldric's head turned. He didn't speak. He just stood, slowly, hands resting at his sides.
Then he looked up.
"It's thinner today," he whispered. "The line between us."
No one responded. But they felt it.
The flame didn't flare. It held steady. Like it was waiting.
Kei stared at the screen, breathing slow.
He hadn't touched anything in minutes.
The villagers were just… living. Quietly. Thoughtfully. Like they weren't in a game at all.
He saw Marra wipe her forehead. Saw Elric move along the gate. Saw Sera chasing drops with a stone. Her sprite even slipped a little.
He hadn't programmed that. Of course not. He hadn't programmed anything.
This wasn't a game someone made. Or if it was, it didn't play by the same rules.
He checked his Divine Points again. Still 2.
The new option blinked softly: Commune – 2 DP
He tapped the shrine.
Not the option. Just the shrine.
A faint vibration ran through the phone.
The fire flickered.
And then… nothing changed.
Except it felt different now. He didn't know how. Or why. But the village didn't feel like pixels anymore.
It felt like a place.
His phone buzzed again. Another message. He ignored it.
In the kitchen, someone was washing dishes. His mom, probably. He heard a cupboard open. Water run. A soft laugh—his dad said something she liked.
Kei looked at the tray by the door. Empty now. He'd eaten.
Not all of it. But enough.
His fingers hovered again.
Commune – 2 DP
He didn't press it.
Not yet.
He just watched.
Rain tapped softly on the real window now. Kei looked up.
Outside, the sky was gray. Drops streaked the glass. The street below was empty. Just puddles and power lines and the steady sound of falling water.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, phone in his lap, hands still. For a long time, he didn't blink. Then he stood up.