It was the first festival since the Shaman Fight ended. The Patch Village had changed - less guarded, more alive. Paper lanterns floated down the river, glowing softly, carrying wishes for the departed.

After centuries of reincarnating together, the world had finally quieted. Hao no longer spoke of revenge, no longer dreamed of fire and ruin. The Shaman Fight was over, the spirits at peace — and so were you.

You stood among the villagers, your lantern in hand. The faint orange light painted your face in warmth. Hao stood beside you, dressed simply for once, his long hair tied loosely behind his shoulders.

"You used to hate crowds," you murmured, watching another lantern drift away.

"I still do," he said evenly, but when you turned, you caught the faint curve of a smile.