The day passed in a blur.
With the Hero’s Festival finally here, every corner of Deimos was overflowing with last-minute work. Alia 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 transford completely.
Rows of lanterns hung across the streets like floating stars. Stalls lit their first candles, signalling that they were open.
Musicians tuned instrunts near the plaza as the sun dipped below the horizon.
And when night finally arrived...
Deimos glowed.
Warm lights shimred 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.
Alia stood waiting for him in the lantern-lit courtyard.
Her Hero’s Garb was a soft pink robe, patterned with faint floral motifs that shimred 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 frad 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 mont, neither spoke. The world felt quiet—just the two of them and the warm night breeze.
Alia brushed a hand along her sleeve.
"Did you know," she began softly, "that these robes ca 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, Alia 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 rging beneath drifting lanterns as music and laughter filled the warm night sky.
Ryn and Alia stepped into the heart of it all.
They stopped by a stall where wooden buckets held shimring river fish beneath lantern light. The gakeeper 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," Alia 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.
Alia 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."
Alia puffed her chest proudly. "Talent."
He couldn’t deny it.
She released the fish back into the pond, Ryn paid the gakeeper and went on their way.
A row of stalls glistened with red, lacquer-like apples on sticks. Alia stopped imdiately, 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 soone fighting a boss monster. The sugary coating cracked and imdiately stuck on her cheek.
Ryn burst out laughing as Alia tilted her head in confusion.
With a helpless smile, he reached out and brushed the sugar from her cheek with his thumb.
Alia 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 ford around a raised wooden platform where a massive drum—almost taller than a man—sat anchored. Perforrs 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 Alia stood shoulder-to-shoulder as the drumrs 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.
Alia 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 perforrs as their powerful strikes resounded across the theater.
"Fits him," he murmured.
Alia 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 Alia’s profile.
After the performance ended, they left the crowd behind, wandering down a quiet street lined with small paper lanterns. They all held so type of ssage, usually desires or wishes to the gods, asking for good luck.
Children ran past holding sparklers. Alia’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.
"... too."
They stopped at the top of a small hill overlooking the lit village. Lanterns shimred below like constellations pinned to the earth.
Ryn let out a quiet breath.
"Not bad," he murmured. "For my first real festival."
Alia nudged him gently with her shoulder. "You’re welco."
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.
Alia 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 an... 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 ti in a long while I felt like things were normal."
Ryn looked down at her.
Normal.
He had almost forgotten what that ant.
"...Sorry," he said suddenly.
Alia blinked. "For what?"
"For making things dangerous. Complicated." He hesitated.
"For pulling you into my ss."
She turned fully toward him, lantern-light catching the soft gold in her eyes.
"Ryn," she said, almost scolding, "I walked into your ss with both feet. Don’t take all the bla."
He exhaled, a small, helpless smile forming. "That doesn’t make feel better."
"It should," she replied lightly.
A quiet beat passed.
Then Alia’s shoulders loosened, and her voice softened further.
"You know... I’m glad you’re here. At the festival. With ."
Ryn’s breath caught.
For a second, he forgot the lanterns, forgot the crowds, forgot the distant preparations.
"... too," he said quietly.
Alia stepped a little closer, the pink floral patterns of her robe brushing against his black pinstripes. Her eyes lifted to et his—gentle, warm, searching.
"Then... when you co back from Lun," she whispered, "let’s make more days like this."
Ryn swallowed.
"...Yeah. Let’s."
Alia smiled, small and genuine.
Ryn felt Alia’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 sothing fragile and earnest, "stay... like this? Just a little longer?"
FWWWHOOM—
The biggest firework tore into the sky.
Light blood 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.
Alia’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 Alia t him halfway.
Their lips touched, warm and feather-soft—a kiss that ca 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 blossod again above them.
For a mont, the world fell away.
No cult, no danger, no future burdens.
Just Ryn and Alia.
Just the night sky exploding in color around them.
When they finally pulled apart, Alia 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.
Alia looked up at him, smile gentle and full.
"Happy Hero’s Festival, Ryn."
He smiled back—really smiled.
"Happy Hero’s Festival, Alia."
Alia’s smile lingered as she looked at him, eyes softer than the lanterns below. Ryn held the mont a little tighter, knowing the night wouldn’t last forever.
For now, though—
It was enough.
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