Morning arrived over the Imperial Capital the way morning always had.
Warm light crossed the celebration banners still hanging in the streets, found the children already outside reenacting the championship finals with the wooden swords they'd convinced their parents to buy, moved through the merchant stalls where miniature Flame Sovereign Pup dolls had appeared with the speed that only commerce achieves when it identifies a moment worth selling. The empire had found its newest hero. The city was doing what cities do with heroes — absorbing them into the texture of daily life, making them into something that belonged to everyone, converting the extraordinary into the familiar before the extraordinary could make anyone too uncomfortable.
Life continued.
Warmly. Ordinarily. With the complete and total confidence of a world that had no memory of nearly coming apart at its foundations.
Aether opened his eyes to sunlight through curtains.
