"It is. And it's enough, for now."
With that, they returned their attention to the crowd, the hush around them deepening as the last of the candlelight slipped into shadows. Soon, the banquet hall would be nothing but an echo of footsteps and the memory of bright possibility.
The candlelight dimmed slowly, like the final breath of a tired fire. The banquet hall, once bright with laughter and golden light, now shimmered in a more delicate tone. Plates of dream-honey pheasant sat half-finished beside mist-sugar pastries melting into empty crystal goblets. The musicians shifted from festive reels to something gentler—notes that floated, slow and soft, as though even sound itself had begun to wind down.
Mikhailis clinked his goblet one last time with Elowen's. The toast had been to prosperity, but also to courage. He wasn't sure who added that word, but it lingered in the air more honestly than all the others.
