The celebrations in Veyrith lasted well into the night.
Bonfires blazed in the city squares, their flames casting dancing shadows across the white stone buildings. Music filled the air—lutes and drums and the joyful singing of survivors who had stared death in the face and lived. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread wafted through the streets, mingling with the salt-scented breeze from the sea.
Gabriel and Lilith stood at the edge of the festivities, their bodies cleaned of monster blood, their clothes fresh and crisp. They had been offered the finest accommodations in the city—a suite in the governor's mansion, with a balcony overlooking the bay. But they had declined the invitation to the grand feast, preferring to observe from a distance.
