The defeat of the Blue Demons brought an era of peace to the continent, restoring harmony as it should be—or as the church wanted it to be.
On the battlefield, still tending to the wounded and collecting the bodies, the soldiers of Enya gathered to celebrate once again, for the freedom they had stubbornly fought to win after five long years.
"Cheers to our Heroes!" shouted one of the soldiers.
Others echoed the cheer and raised their glasses high, happy to finally return home.
On that battlefield, at the front lines against the Blue Army, there were only three heroes: Hiraeth, Sasha, and Jonathan, the primary vanguard of the Church of the Three Saints.
They mingled among the soldiers, though Jonathan, belonging to an aristocratic family from the Empire, stood apart. Sasha and Hiraeth were more familiar with the soldiers, most of whom, lacking the titles of paladins or high ranks in the army, came from the outskirts of the capital or were orphans raised by the Church.
Hiraeth laughed among the soldiers, who affectionately dubbed her a "Hero," too humble for the immense divine power she possessed.
This hero was a little drunk.
Jonathan joined them shortly after, but Sasha remained hidden among the wounded, healing them with her advanced divine abilities.
"They're excited," one of the field nurses remarked.
Sasha sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and returned to healing another injured soldier.
"They're celebrating too soon, and the wounded are drinking prematurely! Someone fetch Héloïse now," Sasha ordered.
The albino had received a great calling from the Mother Goddess to be in that field, serving as nearly a general of the medical camp there. Many followed her orders, taking shelter under her wing, while others—well, they were low-ranking nobles who disliked taking orders from commoners.
Another priestess appeared and assisted Sasha with the remaining injured.
The priests, masters of the sacred and divine energy granted by the Mother Goddess to her chosen children, were rare, but above all, powerful.
These priests were the closest representation humans had of the Mother Goddess, as their powers surpassed even those of the Paladins, who also received such blessings.
Hours passed, and Sasha and the other priests finished the last of the treatments. Those with lesser energy than the higher-ranked priests fell into a deep sleep, but Sasha and three others remained standing.
Sasha packed up her belongings, eager to return to her tent and rest, unable to bear the stress of healing others any longer. It had only been a few hours since the war finally ended, yet she hadn't stopped working.
As she left the medical tent, she saw the still-celebrating soldiers who had forgotten how exhausted they were, drinking and reveling as if there were no tomorrow.
Someone draped an arm over Hiraeth's shoulder and raised a glass high—it was the supreme commander of the battalion, Paladin Ghilher.
"If it weren't for this person here, we wouldn't have made it!" he declared, drunk.
Hiraeth laughed awkwardly, her face flushed.
"Don't say that, General. I'm just a humble lamb in the providence of the great Mother Goddess," Hiraeth replied to the praise.
General Ghilher merely laughed and patted her on the back.
"Don't say that, Hiraeth—no, I should say Hero Hiraeth!" he exclaimed.
"Hero Hiraeth! Hero Hiraeth!" the soldiers chanted.
The brunette could only smile at the applause from her war companions.
A sweet, gentle, and beautiful smile, as if there were none greater, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, made the woman, who rarely showed traits typical of Enya, appear even more beautiful.
In Sasha's eyes, it was as if that person, one she had known forever, shone brighter than any figure of the Mother Goddess.
Sasha was captivated by the sight.
A touch on the shoulder snapped Sasha out of her trance, bringing her back to reality, her face still slightly red.
"Ah, Íllia! You were there, I didn't even see you," Sasha remarked.
"I was calling you, Sasha. Are you okay? Your face is red and…"
Sasha tried to hide her face, looking for somewhere else to focus.
"I'm fine, don't worry. I didn't drink anything, you know I can't. Ah, I remembered, I need to go now, bye, Íllia!" she quickly said, trying to escape her embarrassment.
Sasha had reached her tent, closed it, crouched down, and slapped her face, trying to shake off the thoughts she had been having.
Her extremely pale skin didn't help her efforts.
Later, in the middle of the night, Sasha was awakened by someone calling her. She wasn't surprised, as this often happened when someone with greater energy was needed, but to her surprise, that wasn't the case this time.
Almost stumbling, Jonathan brought a drunken Hiraeth to Sasha, as the hero wouldn't stop saying she needed to see Sasha.
"Ah, it's okay! Thank you, I think," Sasha said, watching Jonathan lay Hiraeth on the bed.
"She kept calling for you, seemed like she wanted to say something," the tall man informed her.
"Oh, I see. Better go now, Sir Jonathan, you must be tired," she advised.
The tall man nodded to her and left the tent.
After he left, Sasha sighed and looked at the woman passed out on her bed. Despite being considered a great hero, as if she were someone unreachable, there she was, like any normal human.
Sasha left to bring a basin of water and a cloth for Hiraeth to clean herself when she woke up.
When she returned, she saw that same woman, who almost always seemed to glow in her eyes, sitting on the bed, her expression downcast, empty, with tears streaming down her face.
Sasha recognized that expression—it always happened after a great battle, as if her dreams were revealing something to her.
The albino placed the basin in the corner and approached the motionless woman, cupping her face with her hands, making her almond eyes meet Sasha's crystal-clear ones that seemed to glow with tears.
"It's okay now, I'm here," Sasha reassured her calmly and lovingly.
Hiraeth placed a hand over one of Sasha's and rested her face in Sasha's palm, as if slowly coming back to herself.
"Sasha…" she whispered.
"I'm here, Hira."