The sun had set, leaving the village bathed in the soft glow of twilight. The Guardians had spent the evening sharing their story with the villagers, who had listened with a mix of awe and relief. The mood was buoyant as the villagers celebrated their newfound freedom from the Weavers' influence, and the Guardians joined in the festivities, their fatigue momentarily forgotten in the warmth of communal joy.
Elara, Lyra, Doran, Morgana, and Henry gathered around a central fire pit, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on their faces. The smell of roasted meats and baked bread filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and music. Despite the celebration, a quiet sense of purpose remained among them, a reminder of the work still to be done.
