The music came from the square. Violins maybe. Flutes. Or those old harmonicas farmers play when they drink too much. Bruno didn’t know. The sound reached him strangely, muffled, like he was underwater. Distant laughter. Blurred lanterns. Everything out of focus.

  "Funny…" he murmured.

  His chest hurt. It wasn’t a cut. It wasn’t bone. It was deeper. Tired. Every breath scraped inside.

  "I don’t care about this… I’ve been through worse…"

  Red snow. Fallen people. Arrows. Screams. Fire. A child crying.

  GOD!

  The pain wouldn’t stop.

  Arachinidio dog cat failure a noble reason slave girl without her father or something more.

  He blinked. Old memories faded, returning.

  "I came back… I’m still standing… and even so I survived."

  Kearlin hovered beside him, too quiet.

  "You call this surviving?"

  Bruno ignored him. The village glowed. Banners. Lights. People dancing. Sweet scent in the air. Everyone alive. Normal.

  He didn’t seem to fit there.

  "Maybe I’m just tired…"

  "Maybe you’re just broken."

  "Whatever."

  He took one step. Then another. Stopping meant thinking. And thinking hurt more.

  Then—

  A cold hand touched the wound beneath his coat.

  The pain froze.

  It didn’t disappear… but it solidified.

  Bruno blinked slowly.

  Elaris was there.

  Silent. Too close. Her presence seemed to shift the air around them.

  "So you finally showed up… you owe me an explanation, princess."

  She sighed as if she had crossed months to get there. Her touch remained firm over his chest, cold like winter water.

  "You wouldn’t wake up… so I had to wake you. Just like in the stories you used to tell me."

  He closed his eyes for a second.

  "A story is one thing… reality is another."

  "You always say that."

  The wind carried the distant sound of the party, mixed with the heavy silence between them. For a few seconds, nothing else existed except the cold touch and his chest finally breathing without tearing.

  Bruno’s hand rose slowly. It brushed her cheek… moved a little higher… gently held her ear.

  "No excuses, girl. Does your mother know what you did?"

  "Ow ow ow, sorry Bruno! I just… I couldn’t handle it after so long!"

  "Don’t say it like that, you sound like a pervert, idiot."

  She tried to pull away, exaggerating a pained expression.

  "You’re cruel."

  "I’m dying and you decide to show up hiding."

  "You’re not dying."

  "Technical detail."

  She stopped joking. Her gaze dropped to his chest again. The cold hand pressed once more, softly.

  "You need to stop pretending you can handle everything alone."

  Bruno released her ear.

  Looked at the illuminated village.

  "I’m not pretending."

  "Then stop making it look like it doesn’t hurt."

  He stayed quiet.

  Because it did hurt.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  More than he wanted to admit.

  The music slowly returned to his ears. The world regaining shape. The cold hand still there.

  "We need to do something about this wound. If you keep this up, you can be sure… you won’t endure it." Elaris kept her cold hand pressed against his chest, her skin almost glowing under the distant lanterns.

  "How kind of you… but I’ve healed worse. It’s just that, after using so much effort to wake up from the coma, I burned all my mana. Now I just need time." Bruno forced a smile… and coughed. A bit of blood stained the corner of his mouth.

  She didn’t blink.

  "Time?" her eyes narrowed. "Then why are you at a party… with such problematic people?"

  Her gaze swept across the illuminated square, as if evaluating invisible threats among laughter and colorful banners.

  Bruno sighed.

  "Those problematic people would be them, right?"

  "Yes. And it’s good that you already know who is or isn’t good company for you." She looked back at him, far too serious for someone who seemed so young.

  Bruno tilted his head slightly.

  "Do you consider yourself good company?"

  She didn’t answer immediately.

  The wind passed between them. Her hand remained there, cold, steady, holding his world in place.

  "I don’t let you bleed at a party pretending you’re fine." Her voice came out low. "That already puts me ahead."

  He let out a short laugh.

  "Fair point."

  "I don’t fight with you out of pride."

  "Debatable."

  "I don’t drag you into wars you don’t need to fight."

  He raised an eyebrow.

  "Also debatable."

  She made a small irritated face.

  "You’re insufferable."

  "You showed up uninvited."

  Silence.

  Her expression softened slightly.

  "I showed up because you were falling apart again."

  The music grew distant for a moment. Bruno looked away.

  "I’m standing."

  "For now."

  The cold hand pressed a little more, and the blood under his coat stopped flowing.

  "You always choose to stay near people who need you." She tilted her head. "But you rarely stay near those who can take care of you."

  He stayed quiet.

  That… he didn’t have a ready answer for.

  So he escaped through humor.

  "So are you officially offering yourself as my guardian?"

  "Don’t flatter yourself."

  "Then what are you?"

  She leaned a little closer.

  "I’m the only one who can give you time… since you insist on wasting yours."

  Bruno held her gaze for a few seconds.

  Then gave a crooked smile.

  "Arrogant."

  "I hear that a lot."

  In the distance, familiar voices began approaching along the tree path.

  Elaris noticed first.

  "They’re coming."

  "I know."

  But even so…

  he didn’t ask her to remove her hand.

  "Damn… of course when we get here we see this exact scene." Anaalyn walked firmly, arms crossed, expression closed. "Do you ever get tired of causing trouble?"

  "A lot." Bruno answered simply.

  The dwarf’s eyes dropped straight to the cold hand still pressed against his chest.

  "Alright, crystal princess can step back now." Anaalyn lightly pushed Elaris’ shoulder.

  The air temperature seemed to drop.

  "Why should I follow orders from a dwarf?" Elaris replied without raising her voice.

  "Because yes, princess." Seralyn approached as well, sharp expression. "You’re not in your salt castle."

  Elaris’ eyes glowed for a second.

  "And you’re not in your forest pretending superiority."

  Anaalyn clicked her tongue.

  "Want to measure height or strength?"

  "Dwarf."

  "Spoiled princess."

  Bruno slowly closed his eyes.

  "No… don’t start…"

  Kearlin sighed beside him. "Statistically inevitable."

  Tila appeared almost throwing herself in between, pulling Bruno by the arm before anyone could truly turn that into diplomatic war.

  "Come on. In the circus you stay away from clowns."

  "Okay… Tila?" he let himself be dragged.

  Behind him he could still hear:

  "I’m not a clown."

  "Depends on the outfit."

  "Say that again."

  Tila kept pulling him back toward the party lights.

  "They’re going to rip their own ears off if you stay in the middle."

  "I didn’t do anything."

  "You breathed. That’s enough."

  He let out a low laugh… which almost turned into a cough, but he hid it.

  The music grew louder again.

  Lights.

  People.

  Forced normality.

  Tila stopped in front of him, holding both his shoulders firmly.

  "Stay here. With me. Away from royalty, away from elves, away from angry dwarves."

  "That sounds way too specific."

  "Recent experience."

  She smiled.

  And Bruno realized that somehow… he was the center of a hurricane he never tried to create.

  But always created anyway.

  "Is it always like this?" Tila asked, still holding his arm as if afraid he might vanish again mid-argument.

  "It’s always like this." Bruno answered without thinking.

  She tilted her head, watching the distant chaos where voices still argued.

  "You always manage to surprise me."

  "Unfortunately I’m famous for that."

  Tila laughed, that light laugh that felt out of place in so much tension.

  "Sometimes I miss before. When there were fewer people. Fewer problems. Less… everything." She looked at the glowing square. "But I still like these moments of madness. Even if nobody likes each other that much… everyone understands each other in a strange way."

  Bruno stayed quiet, absorbing that.

  The music continued. Children running. Lanterns swaying in the wind.

  "You described our situation perfectly."

  She smiled proudly.

  "I’m smart sometimes."

  "Sometimes."

  "Hey!"

  She lightly punched his arm.

  He let out a small, more genuine smile.

  Maybe she was right.

  Maybe that group was a mess of pride, trauma, and personalities too strong to share the same space.

  But in the end…

  When someone bled.

  When someone disappeared.

  When someone needed.

  They showed up.

  Even arguing.

  Even complaining.

  Even pretending not to care.

  The insults began to fade. Not disappear… but soften.

  "Looks like they calmed down." Tila commented.

  "Looks like it." he replied.

  In the distance, Seralyn stood arms crossed while Elaris stayed a few steps away, both pretending the other didn’t exist.

  "Let’s finally celebrate instead of insulting each other." Tila clapped once like organizing children.

  "I was waiting for someone to say that."

  "Of course you were, you never take social initiative."

  "I do."

  "You don’t."

  Before he could argue—

  "You’re not leaving without us." Anaalyn approached, expression still firm… but not angry.

  Seralyn came right behind, rigid posture, silent.

  Tila smiled wide.

  "Then good. Everyone together. No fighting."

  "No promises." Seralyn muttered.

  "I heard that." Anaalyn replied.

  Bruno sighed.

  "If you start again I’m leaving."

  "You won’t." Anaalyn said immediately.

  "You really won’t." Tila added.

  Seralyn only gave him a short look.

  He raised his hands in surrender.

  "Fine."

  The music rose. Someone began pulling people to dance. Lanterns swayed. Sweet scent stronger.

  For a moment… no one argued.

  No one provoked.

  No one threatened.

  They were just there.

  Imperfect. Proud. Complicated.

  But together.

  The music rose.

  Louder. More alive.

  And it felt like everyone’s blood followed the rhythm.

  Tila spun in the square, yellow-orange dress flaring like light itself. Every turn made the fabric ripple like sunlight on water.

  Seralyn didn’t truly dance. Just nodded to the rhythm, arms crossed at first… then slowly uncrossing. Foot tapping unconsciously.

  Anaalyn closed her eyes and moved her strong arms like in an underground tavern. Pure energy. No shame.

  Elaris swayed with control. Smooth, calculated movements. Almost too elegant for a village party. Still… she smiled faintly.

  Kearlin floated above them, playing dramatic invisible guitar solos only Bruno could see.

  And Bruno just watched.

  A dumb smile on his face.

  For a moment… it felt enough.

  "You’re not going to dance?" Tila appeared in front of him.

  "I probably have more than fifteen deep cuts in my body… but I can try."

  "Don’t overdo it, dummy."

  She pulled his hand.

  She spun around him, making him spin too. He kept it simple, letting her lead. When she spun too fast, he held firm so she wouldn’t fall.

  "See? Not that hard!"

  "My definition of hard is different."

  She laughed and let go.

  Anaalyn threw his arm over her shoulder.

  "Dance properly, human."

  "I am dancing."

  "That’s surviving, not dancing."

  She stomped heavily, dragging him to match her rhythm. He copied awkwardly at first… then found the beat.

  Anaalyn grinned wide.

  "There! Now that’s it!"

  "My ribs disagree."

  "They’ll learn."

  Seralyn.

  She didn’t pull him.

  Just stared.

  "You going to keep staring or dance?"

  "I don’t dance like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Drawing attention."

  She sighed… but extended her hand anyway.

  He took it.

  Their dance was smaller. Short steps. Contained movements. Like a conversation without words. He spun her once — slowly — respecting space. She didn’t smile… but her eyes were light.

  "You still look like an idiot dancing."

  "Consistency is important."

  Elaris.

  She was already watching.

  Waiting.

  "You took long."

  "Long line."

  She raised an eyebrow.

  Her dance was different.

  Less force. Less restraint.

  More fluid.

  She led. Smooth gliding steps. He followed despite his body protesting. Her touch was cold… but steady.

  "Don’t faint."

  "No promises."

  She spun under his arm, hair catching lantern light.

  For a moment… it felt like a castle ball, not a village party.

  Kearlin shredding imaginary solos through unaware villagers.

  Bruno back at the center.

  Breathing heavier.

  Hurting.

  But laughing.

  The four around him.

  Each in their rhythm.

  Loud.

  Proud.

  Complicated.

  Alive.

  And the party finally seemed to calm, but never end.