Noah lowered the spear slowly.
Not because he had decided Valen was no longer a threat. Because the gesture meant something and he needed it to mean something right now, the way you put down a weapon when the fight has reached the point where continuing it serves neither person in it.
Valen watched the tip come down. His chest was still working from the exertion, the golden glow fading from his frame in gradual stages, and he stood with his hands at his sides and looked at Noah across the torn-up hillside with the expression of a man who had just run a calculation and arrived at an answer he did not entirely know what to do with.
Noah held the spear out handle-first.
Valen took it.
They stood there for a moment, both of them breathing, the red mist still sitting around them in the warm ambient way of something that was present because it chose to be and was not in any hurry about leaving.
"Sit down," Noah said.
Valen looked at him.
"Please," Noah added.
