It had been days. Days of celebration that refused to fade, that burned brighter instead of dimming. Days where the kingdom forgot how to be quiet.
At the Capital, the feast never truly ended. Children ran through the streets from dawn until well past dusk, bare feet slapping against stone, laughter echoing between buildings as they shouted her name at the top of their lungs—
"Lady Seraphine!"
"She did it again!"
"Our Lady is unstoppable!"
They waved sticks like staves, pretending to cast teleportation spells, tripping over themselves and getting right back up, faces flushed with joy. Parents didn't scold them. Elders didn't hush them.
No one wanted silence. Bards rewrote songs mid-performance.
