Promise

A week later. 

Orbis. 

The sun climbed the horizon slowly, spilling its light over the valleys like a patient painter layering strokes of gold and amber across a waiting canvas. Morning mist clung to the earth in gentle veils before lifting, revealing meadows dotted with wildflowers—small bursts of violet, yellow, and white that swayed in the rhythm of the breeze.

The trees bordering the road to Orbis stood proud, their roots deep in the soil, their branches stretching wide. The leaves whispered to one another, brushing softly in the air as if they were exchanging secrets too ancient for human ears. The bark of the oldest trunks bore scars of weather and age, yet even those marks seemed softened, less harsh, as though the very forest was breathing in relief.

Life was peaceful. A shepherd guided his flock up a hillside, his whistle calm, no longer sharp with anxiety. Farmers, bent at their work, tilled the fields with steady hands, unconcerned by sudden shouts or the clamor of armed boots interrupting their morning. Smoke rose from chimneys in the distance, curling lazily into the sky—signs of families gathered at hearths, their talk no longer subdued by fear.

Children played on the cobblestone streets, chasing one another until they collapsed in laughter. Their games were simple—sticks, stones, chalk—but joy radiated through them, louder than any battle cry. Their parents watched from doorways, not with worry, but with ease, their voices filled with warmth instead of warnings.

The atmosphere was tranquil. The air itself seemed lighter, as though some great hand had lifted the weight that pressed upon Orbis for so long. Even the wind moved differently, carrying not dread, but a crisp freshness, like a world reborn.

And there were no more heroes. Their once-constant presence had evaporated, leaving no echo of iron-clad footsteps on the stones, no gleam of polished armor demanding attention. No more pompous voices declaring themselves saviors while collecting their “fees.” No more smug grins carved into faces that knew only prepotence and pride.

The heroes had vanished, and with them, the illusion of protection that had kept Orbis in chains. In their place remained only the people, raw and unguarded, yet freer than they had ever been. The city did not collapse without them; instead, it breathed.

The marketplace, once dominated by warriors strutting between stalls, now belonged to the vendors and the townsfolk. Merchants called out their prices with enthusiasm, unafraid of losing half their profits to “heroic taxes.” The sound of coins clinking was no longer bitter but hopeful, each exchange a sign of honest living.

The taverns, too, had changed. Where once bards sang the praises of armored champions, now their songs turned to older tales—folk stories of rivers and stars, of farmers who became kings in far-off lands. The clatter of mugs no longer accompanied drunken boasts of bloodshed, but instead the hum of neighbors speaking without fear of interruption.

Even the guards at Orbis’s gates looked different. Without heroes overshadowing them, they stood straighter, not from pride but from the quiet dignity of men trusted to do their work. They no longer feared being replaced, belittled, or ordered aside by those who claimed greater authority. They were guardians of the people, and that was enough.

No more heroes meant no more arrogance gilded as duty. No more prepotence in the streets. The balance of power had shifted in silence, but its effect was thunderous. Orbis, at last, belonged to itself.

The river that cut through the town glistened in the sun, carrying its waters past mills whose wheels spun steadily, ceaselessly. The hum of daily life rose around it, a music woven not by trumpets or drums of war, but by the harmony of ordinary people: footsteps, laughter, bargaining, whispers, and the crackle of fires.

In the heart of all this, the city stood neither triumphant nor conquered. It was simply alive.

And for the first time in decades, Orbis no longer looked over its shoulder.

---------------------------

The heart of Orbis had transformed in a single week. Where once the plaza had been a place of gathering under the watchful eyes of armored “heroes,” now it pulsed with the life of its own citizens. The cobblestones were swept clean, and colorful banners fluttered from the surrounding buildings, carrying no crest of kingdoms or orders, only patterns and symbols chosen by the townsfolk themselves. Merchants set their stalls in neat rows, their tables heavy with bread, fruit, fabrics, and trinkets, their voices overlapping in a warm chorus of barter and laughter. Musicians with lutes and flutes had begun to play in corners, their notes weaving through the chatter, bringing a festive air to the streets.

At the very center stood a new monument, tall and unmistakable. A statue of three figures carved from pale stone rose proudly, sunlight glinting off its polished surface. The sculptor had captured them in a stance of unity—Mira, her expression firm yet gentle; Kael, steady and resolute, her cloak sweeping around her shoulders; and Lian, posed in his odd attire, one hand raised as though ready to challenge the world. Together they looked outward, watching over the city not as rulers, but as guardians chosen by fate.

People passed the statue throughout the day, some pausing in awe, others with small, private smiles. Flowers had already been left at the base, offerings from those who wanted to show their gratitude in the simplest way. Children often stopped to stare, their games briefly forgotten as they looked up at the larger-than-life stone heroes.

Among them, a mother walked hand in hand with her young son. The boy’s eyes widened as they reached the monument, his gaze darting from one figure to the next.

“Mama,” he asked, tugging lightly at her arm, “who are those three?”

She smiled, following his eyes toward the statue. “The pretty girl is named Mira. The other girl is Kael. And that strangely dressed fellow in the middle… that’s Lian. The three of them saved Orbis—not only from the Demon King, but also from the so-called heroes.”

“Wow!” the boy gasped, his small fists clenching with excitement. “If a guy dressed like that can do such great things, then even I can succeed someday! Hooray!”

His mother chuckled softly, brushing her hand through his hair. “Yes, dear. And if, one day, something should ever happen, promise me you’ll protect this city the way they did.”

The boy’s eyes lit with determination. He stood a little taller and declared, “I promise, Mama! I’ll protect Orbis!”

They continued on, their laughter echoing lightly across the plaza. And above them, the statue of Lian, Mira, and Kael stood silently, eternal witnesses to a new age.