The war was over, everyone was shouting on the battlefield, celebrating yet another victory for the Enya Empire and the Church of the Three Saints. Everyone was happy to be able to return home after a five-year military campaign in the southwest of the continent.

The empire's desire to recover the territory of Blue Lagoon from the demons was great, and the Church of the Three Saints did justice to the Holy War by seeking that small territory.

A lot of blood was spilled in that place, on a land considered sacred by all of us. Even so, it was not in vain. The most religious prayed to the Mother Goddess in gratitude for having been saved and others for forgiveness for the lives they had taken.

We, the priests of the Church of the Three Saints, bathed the soil to purify it of all the evil that could still exist in Blue Lagoon, and we also prayed for the dead on our side:

"May the Mother Goddess receive you in her sweet bosom," I whispered with my hands together.

I looked again at the sky, which seemed to open up more and more and embrace us with a light of liberation.

I smiled again, seeing the joy of my companions there, all alive. I had to swallow my tears; it was not the time to cry. Everyone was happy to be alive at that moment.

The soldiers began a war chant in unison, calling for their hero at that moment, who was pulling his sword from the body of a blue demon, the last one on that battlefield.

"Hero! Hero!" the soldiers exclaimed to a single person who was the center of the entire liberation campaign.

"Hail the Hero Hiraeth!" the soldiers shouted.

There was everyone's hero, born on the outskirts of the capital of Kyrios, someone who perhaps did not even know what the world had in store for him. Before, the armor given to him by the Church's army did not even fit and seemed like it would fall apart at any moment. Seeing him like that made me reflect on all the trials we had gone through to get here.

His body did not seem the least bit hurt, like a true hero from the stories we heard when we were children in the orphanage. Her armor, this time, fit her very well, as she was recognized as the commander of that squadron. The blood of our enemies ran like water on her armor, her skin stained with their blood. She threw her short hair back and raised the flag with the golden leopard of the Empire of Enya, shouting:

"May the Mother Goddess be with us!"

Everyone repeated what she had said, her name echoing like a battle song. Our eyes met in that great crowd of people and bodies. Other men lifted her high, lifting her like a hero of legend. Her smile was something that always enchanted me.

My heart beat quickly with that charming smile, despite her appearance not being pleasant at that moment. However, that did not matter. We were all happy. After five years, after everything that fate had in store for us, we cried with sweet happiness on that conquered battlefield. But now it was time to return.

Return to Enya, to home.