The days that followed were quiet… but not silent.
Zen had a bed now. Not soft, not large but real. Mira gave him her old blanket, stitched with faded stars. Her father set up a corner of their small wooden home with folded mats and a basket for his few things.
He still didn't talk much.
But each morning, Zen helped Mira's father at the stall. He stacked apples, brushed dust from peaches, and sometimes sat quietly, just watching the people walk by.
The city of Kaelora buzzed in the distance, far beyond Virellia's modest hills. Sometimes, caravans passed through the village, merchants speaking in strange accents. Zen stayed behind the cart during those moments, his eyes wary.
Mira noticed.
She never pushed him to talk about the past. But she stayed by his side talked, smiled, laughed, told stories of birds stealing fruits or how she once tried to make apple pie and nearly set their roof on fire.
Zen didn't laugh right away. But he listened. He always listened.
One morning, as they opened the stall under the still-pale sky, Mira handed him a plum. "Eat before the rush," she grinned.
Zen took it, nodded. He didn't smile but his silence was softer now. His shoulders didn't droop as much.
Later that day, Mira's father stood beside Zen while setting prices.
"You've got good hands," he said without looking at him. "Careful with bruised fruit. Shows you're patient."
Zen blinked. He hadn't expected praise.
The man glanced down at him. "You don't have to say much, kid. Just keep doing what you're doing."
Zen didn't reply. But he held onto those words all day.
That night, the stars were clearer than ever above Virellia.
Zen sat on the rooftop, legs curled to his chest, gazing at the sky. The moon reminded him of home of a palace bathed in light… and screams swallowed by darkness.
His hand moved slowly to his chest, where the Aegis Tear still hung beneath his clothes. The shield-shaped necklace his mother gave him warm against his skin even now.
He closed his eyes.
"Mama… Papa…"
The wind answered with a whisper through the trees.
Behind him, the roof creaked.
Mira climbed up and flopped beside him with a sigh. "I swear, if my father makes me carry one more watermelon…"
Zen said nothing, but his lips twitched slightly.
She lay back, arms behind her head. "You're starting to look a little alive, you know."
He glanced sideways.
"You don't have to say anything," she said quietly. "But when you're ready… I'll listen."
Zen looked back up.
The stars didn't feel so far now.
Somewhere beyond Virellia…
In a hidden cavern, far from the peaceful village, dark wings beat against the air. A pair of crimson eyes blinked open within the shadows.
A voice hissed.
"He lives…"
A claw dragged across the stone, cracking it.
"…the child of Eldoria still breathes."