Milo touched the polished surface of Taron's statue, his fingers tracing the lines that perfectly captured the determination in his friend's face.
The tree behind had grown a bit over these months, its branches extending like protective arms over the monument, casting dappled shadows that seemed to make the statue's expression shift with the changing light.
"You should see the city now," he murmured, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. "All that time we spent planning how to expand... it's happening."
The conversations they had shared during the crusade for the first ring resonated in his memory. Taron had always been the optimist old man of the group, even in the darkest moments.
When everyone doubted, he maintained faith that Elio… that they would achieve their goals. His laughter had been infectious, his spirit unbreakable until the very end.
