Yet as the boats drew closer, a question began to stir among the onlookers:

  Where was the Prince of Light?

  The children were there, yes—but the hero who had saved them was nowhere in sight.

  The baron, too, scanned the vessels with sharp eyes.

  He had hoped to catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure—the one who had not only rescued the children, but also shattered the cycle of ritual sacrifice imposed by the dark mage. And yet, there was no sign of the Prince of Light.

  When the boats finally docked, the children were met with warm embraces, tears, and joyous laughter.

  The stories they shared confirmed what the parents—and the baron—had already begun to suspect:

  The Prince of Light had faced countless dangers, fought the followers of darkness, and paved the way for their freedom.

  Even in the hero’s absence, the baron raised a hand, calling for silence.

  “People of Devalin,” he declared in a powerful voice, “today, our children have returned. It is a day of joy, a day of gratitude—made possible by the courage and kindness of the man known as the Prince of Light. Though he is not among us tonight, let us honor his deeds and celebrate the homecoming of those we hold dear.”

  The castle courtyard soon shimmered with the light of a hundred torches.

  Under the stars, the long banquet tables overflowed with food and drink. Laughter and song echoed throughout the barony—a striking contrast to the months of darkness that had come before.

  The baron, though sharing in the joy, remained deep in thought.

  Seated at his table, he watched the children laugh and eat, surrounded by their families. A blend of admiration and guilt swelled within him. He knew that a feast alone was not enough to honor the Prince of Light.

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  This hero had done what he, the baron of these lands, had failed to do: protect the children and break the curse that had plagued his barony.

  As he raised his cup in a toast, he made a silent vow—

  Never again would he be manipulated by figures like the dark mage. His duty was to protect his people, and he would ensure that such a tragedy would never be allowed to happen again.

  Meanwhile, elsewhere in the shadows, a silent figure stood at the edge of Devalin’s river.

  After watching the distant lights of the banquet and the laughter rising into the night sky, Ale remained still, alone with his thoughts.

  From within his cloak, he drew the horn entrusted to him by the river spirit and brought it gently to his lips.

  The horn trembled faintly in his hand, releasing a soothing melody that blended seamlessly with the whispers of the flowing water.

  Moments later, the surface of the river began to stir.

  Ripples spread wide beneath the starlight. Bubbles rose and burst with quiet pops, and then, slowly, a wall of water rose from the depths—shifting and shaping itself into the majestic form of the river spirit.

  Its shimmering scales, like underwater jewels, glowed softly in the moonlight.

  “Is it done?” the spirit asked in a deep yet calming voice, its glowing eyes fixed on Ale.

  “Yes,” Ale replied. “It’s over. The children are safe, and the followers of darkness in this region have been dealt with.”

  The spirit inclined its head slightly, its gaze filled with respect for the young man who had achieved so much in such little time.

  “Where will you go now?” the spirit asked, its voice echoing gently over the surface of the water.

  Ale hesitated for a moment, the weight of recent events settling heavily on his shoulders.

  He cast one final glance toward the castle’s distant lights, then turned back to face the spirit.

  “Can you take me near the city of Eldoria? I’ve got training I can’t miss.”

  A soft laugh—like the distant rumble of a waterfall—escaped the spirit.

  “Eldoria, hmm? Very well. Brace yourself.”

  The wall of water bent and stretched, forming a wave—powerful, yet gentle—that wrapped around Ale.

  In a single motion, he was lifted and carried by the spirit, gliding swiftly across the dark waters of the river, leaving behind the barony of Devalin and the echoes of its joyful feast.