The village did not return to normal.
It didn't try to.
When they arrived, no one asked questions. No one rushed forward. The turtles at the edge of the settlement saw what they carried—and that was enough.
Work stopped.
Movement slowed.
Silence spread.
Not forced.
Not ordered.
It simply… happened.
Aric felt it as they walked through the settlement. The usual sounds—the steady work, the quiet exchanges, the rhythm of a place that lived—were gone. In their place was something heavier. A shared understanding that needed no words.
They knew.
Brenok did not stop.
Blood still ran from his shoulder, dark against his arm, but his grip never loosened.
He carried Luma through the center of the village without looking left or right. His steps were steady, controlled, each one placed with the same care he had shown since lifting her in the cave.
Sira walked beside him, Varok in her arms.
Her injured leg shifted under the weight, her movement slightly uneven—but she did not slow.
Dren followed close behind.
His shoulder hung lower now, each step heavier than the last, but he carried Sira's bow and his hammer without complaint.
Keth moved slower now, his injuries catching up to him, one hand still pressed against his side. Blood marked his path in faint drops—but he didn't fall back.
Reth remained at the front, clearing the path without needing to be told.
Aric walked among them.
Present.
But not fully there.
His side pulled with every breath. His arm ached beneath the bandage. His burned hand throbbed faintly where it held the broken spear.
He ignored all of it.
The bodies were prepared near the edge of the settlement.
Close to the river.
The place felt older than the rest of the village. The ground was smoother, worn by time and repetition. Wooden platforms rested near the water, simple in construction but deliberate in placement.
This had been done before.
Many times.
Aric stood back as the others moved.
He didn't know what to do.
So he watched.
Carefully.
Two turtles approached in silence, bringing clean cloth and water. They worked without hesitation, without instruction, their movements practiced. Blood was wiped away. Torn armor removed. Wounds covered.
Not hidden.
Just… made still.
Sira knelt beside Varok as they worked.
Her injured leg folded slowly beneath her, but her posture never broke.
Her hand rested lightly against his shoulder the entire time.
Dren stood behind her.
Quiet.
Keth leaned against a nearby post, arms crossed loosely now, his breathing heavier than before.
Reth remained near the edge of the trees.
Watching.
Always watching.
Brenok—
did not move.
He still held Luma.
Even as the others finished preparing the platforms.
Even as the river moved quietly beside them.
Even as the village gathered.
Korran approached.
Slow.
Measured.
He stopped a few steps away from Brenok and looked at Luma for a long moment.
Then at Varok.
Then at the others.
"They returned," he said.
His voice was steady.
Low.
"They protected this place."
A pause.
"They will be remembered."
That was all.
When it was time, Brenok stepped forward.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He lowered Luma onto the wooden platform.
For a moment, his hands didn't leave her.
They hovered.
Just above her.
As if unsure whether letting go would make it real.
Aric felt his chest tighten.
Sira moved next.
Varok was placed beside her on a second platform, parallel to Luma's. Her movements were just as controlled, just as deliberate. When she finished, she stepped back without a word.
The river moved quietly in front of them.
Waiting.
No one spoke.
The entire village stood behind them, gathered in stillness.
Not mourning loudly.
Not breaking.
Just present.
Together.
Brenok stepped forward again.
He knelt beside Luma.
For a long time, he didn't move.
Then—
slowly—
his hand reached out.
He adjusted the position of her head slightly.
Careful.
Precise.
His hand lingered there.
Then—
stilled.
Aric saw his fingers tighten slightly.
A small tremor.
Barely visible.
But there.
"…I wasn't fast enough."
The words were quiet.
Almost lost in the sound of the river.
But they were heard.
Aric felt them.
His grip tightened around the broken spear.
Not enough.
Never enough.
He didn't know what to say.
Didn't try.
Korran stepped forward once more.
He didn't speak again.
He simply placed a hand against the edge of one platform.
Then the other.
A signal.
Nothing more.
Brenok's hand didn't move at first.
Then—
it did.
He let go.
The platforms shifted.
Slowly.
They slid forward into the current.
The river caught them gently.
Not pulling.
Not rushing.
Just carrying.
Aric watched.
The water moved around the wood, guiding it away from the shore. Luma and Varok drifted side by side, the distance between them and the village growing with each passing second.
No one reached for them.
No one followed.
This was the way.
The current pulled them farther.
Smaller.
More distant.
Aric's gaze stayed fixed on them.
The bodies drifted further.
Further.
Until they felt unreal.
And then—
a sharp crack.
Too loud.
Too close.
A gun.
Impact.
His chest—
something tearing through him.
Air gone in an instant.
He remembered falling.
The shock—
not pain.
Then nothing.
His breath hitched.
The river returned.
Aric frowned slightly.
"…What was that?"
The thought didn't settle.
It didn't make sense.
It didn't stay.
The moment passed.
The platforms drifted farther.
Then farther still.
Until the river took them beyond the bend.
Out of sight.
No one moved.
Not for a long time.
Eventually, the turtles began to leave.
Not all at once.
Not together.
One by one.
In silence.
The ritual was over.
But the weight remained.
Brenok stayed kneeling by the river.
Long after the others had stepped away.
Aric watched him.
Then looked down at his own hands.
They still felt wrong.
Too light.
Too empty.
He turned.
Slowly.
And walked back toward the settlement.
No one stopped him.
No one spoke.
The village felt different now.
Not broken.
But changed.
The paths he had walked before seemed quieter. The structures more distant. The spaces between them heavier than they should have been.
He didn't know where he was going.
Not exactly.
His steps just carried him.
Away from the river.
Away from the others.
He found the cabin without meaning to.
Small.
Simple.
Built like the rest—wood and stone, low and solid.
Empty.
For now.
Aric stepped inside.
The air was still.
Cool.
Quiet.
For the first time since the cave—
there was nothing pressing against him.
No enemies.
No movement.
No expectations.
He sat down.
Slowly.
Every part of his body felt heavier now that he had stopped moving. The adrenaline was gone. The fight was gone.
Only what remained stayed.
Luma.
Varok.
The cave.
The blood.
The moment she stepped in front of him.
She saved me.
The thought came again.
Stronger now.
He didn't push it away.
Didn't try to change it.
It was simply there.
He leaned back against the wall.
Closed his eyes.
It didn't feel real.
But it was.
His body gave in first.
The weight of everything pulling him down, deeper, heavier than anything he had felt before.
He let it happen.
This time—
he didn't fight it.