Epilogue

Several days had passed since the battle. The scars of frost and fire still marked the clearing outside Elaron, but within the elven city the mood had softened. Life returned to routine: laughter in the markets and birdsong drifting from the trees.

In a sunlit chamber overlooking the World Tree’s roots, four women sat together around a low table. Steam curled from their cups, mingling with the faint scent of herbs.

Rikka sprawled in her chair, boots kicked off. Neria sat with her usual poise, though the corners of her mouth twitched at every remark. Celia leaned gracefully on one armrest, a picture of elegance—or so she liked to believe. And Alina, still pale but smiling more each day, sat between them, nursing her tea with both hands.

For a moment, the scene was simple. Peaceful.

Then Celia’s eyes narrowed slyly over the rim of her cup.
“So, Alina…” Her voice dripped with mischief. “Have you made him yours yet?”

Alina froze mid-sip. “W-what?!” She nearly dropped the cup, setting it down too fast. The porcelain clinked against the saucer. “M-make him… mine?!”

“Don’t play coy.” Celia tilted her head, lips curved in a feline smile. “You two looked very close. I assumed it was only a matter of time.”

Alina’s face went scarlet. “I-it’s not like that! We’re just—”

Rikka cut in with a grin. “He’s still recovering, you know. Too weak to resist right now.” She gave an exaggerated wink.

Alina’s jaw dropped. “R-resist what?! What are you even talking about?!” She took a long sip of tea, more to hide her face than anything else.

Celia’s hand fluttered to her mouth, and she let out a soft, surprised laugh. “Oh my. You don’t mean to tell me you’re still a maiden?”

“Pff—!” 

Alina sprayed tea across the table, choking as Neria doubled over, clutching her stomach and howling with laughter.

“W-wait, wait, that’s not—!” Alina stammered, face burning hotter than one of Celia’s fireballs. She grabbed a napkin, dabbing frantically at the mess.

Rikka leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Called it.”

Celia, unbothered, smoothed her skirt and smiled as if she had just won a game no one else had realised was being played. “Honestly, darling, if you wait too long, I might just steal him for myself.”

Alina whipped her head around. “Wh-what?!”

“You heard me.” Celia sipped her tea as if nothing were out of place. “He is rather handsome. Strong, mysterious, the sort who broods at windows… A fine specimen, don’t you think?”

Rikka snorted. “Please. You’ve got a hundred years on him. That’s cradle-robbing.”

“What does that matter?” Celia countered smoothly. “Age is but a number. Quality is eternal.” She flicked her hair over one shoulder and turned to Neria. “Tell me you disagree.”

Neria, still chuckling, raised her hands in surrender. “Not my type. But you’re not wrong.”

“See!” Celia shot back with a smirk. “If he’s the loot, I’ll cradle-rob any time.”

Alina buried her face in her hands. “Why are we even talking about this?!”

“Because it’s obvious,” Rikka teased with a wolfish grin. “The way you looked at him after the battle… everyone saw it. You’d have torn down the whole World Tree if it meant saving him.”

Alina’s hands slipped from her face, her lips parting—but no words came. She clutched her teacup instead, staring into the steam, cheeks still blazing red.

Silence settled for a heartbeat, broken only by the clink of Celia setting down her empty cup.

“Well then,” Celia said lightly, rising to her feet. “That settles it. You’d better hurry before someone else claims him. A hero doesn’t stay unclaimed for long.”

“C-Celia!” Alina squeaked, mortified.

The Inferno Witch only laughed, graceful as ever, and swept from the room. Rikka followed, still chuckling, and Neria stayed behind and gave Alina a reassuring hug.

She pulled away with a smirk. “After what he did to save you? You’ve got nothing to worry about.” She kissed Alina on the cheek before leaving, a sisterly gesture that made Alina flush all over again.

Left alone, Alina pressed both hands to her burning cheeks. Her heart still thudded from the teasing—but beneath the embarrassment was something warm, steady, undeniable.

***

Evening fell over Elaron. The World Tree’s canopy shuffled faintly in the breeze.

Renji stood at its base, one hand resting against the rough bark of a massive root. He wasn’t fully healed, but the ache didn’t bother him as much as the silence.

“The Great Spirit, huh…” His voice was flat, almost mocking. “You only speak when it’s convenient for you. No wonder some people hate your guts.”

The root beneath his palm hummed with quiet energy but gave no answer.

Renji pulled his hand away, shaking his head. “Figures.”

Footsteps rustled softly in the grass. He turned and saw Alina, her pale hair catching silver in the evening light. Her expression carried the faintest trace of the fluster he’d seen earlier that day.

“…Everyone’s looking for you,” she said softly. “I thought I’d find you here.”

Renji exhaled. “Guess I needed air.” His eyes drifted back up the trunk. “Place like this… doesn’t exactly let you forget where you are.”

Alina stepped closer. “They were teasing me earlier. About you.”

“I can imagine,” he muttered.

Her cheeks coloured, but she didn’t look away. “It made me realise something. Back then, when I thought I’d lost you… when you shattered the Orb…” She swallowed, voice trembling. “I—I couldn’t stand it. I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

Renji was silent. The leaves rustled high above, the only sound, apart from her words.

Alina clasped her hands together. “So, even if you say you’ll go back to your world someday… I… I want you to know—”

He cut in, his voice softer than before. “I don’t know if it’s possible now.” He jerked a thumb at the World Tree behind him. “One of the reasons I came here. To find out.”

She took a step closer, clutching the front of his tunic in her hands. “But you’ll keep searching for a way, won’t you?”

Renji’s eyes lingered on hers. “…I don’t know. Probably.”

“Renji, I just need you to know—”

Her words faltered as his hand came up to cup her cheek.

Alina’s breath caught. For a moment she couldn’t speak, couldn’t even blink.

He hesitated for a beat, then closed the distance, pressing his lips to hers.

She froze, wide-eyed. Then, as the warmth of his lips sank in, she shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around him. A single tear slid down her cheek.

They held the kiss for a heartbeat longer before parting. Their embrace remained, foreheads resting together, both of them smiling.

“I don’t know if I can ever return to my world. But while I’m here… I’m here with you.”

“That’s enough for me.” She pressed her forehead against his chest. “…And I’ll be here with you, Renji.”

They stood like that in silence, watching the roots of the World Tree pulse faintly beneath the starlight. For once, no voices intruded—not the Great Spirit, not the world itself. Just the two of them.