Ash walked the central avenue of the reborn capital with Nia locked on his left arm and Vaeloria on his right, their tails lazily entwined behind them like living banners. A week had passed since Velora entered the rankings, and the city had become a hymn in crimson and white.
Every rooftop flew banners of fresh blood-silk and snow-satin that snapped in a wind that smelled faintly of phoenix flame and winter roses. The cobblestones themselves had been redone overnight into alternating crimson and ivory tiles that caught the rose-gold dawn and threw it back into the sky.
Sky-islands drifted overhead in perfect formation; their undersides painted with murals of a crowned fox wreathed in fire and moonlight.
Citizens lined the streets in perfect silence; men and women of every age sank to one knee as the trio passed, foreheads pressed to the warm stone, not out of fear but out of a devotion so complete it felt like gravity.
