The journey back felt like a victory lap.
When the royal procession entered Sanctum, thousands of cheering citizens lined the streets. They tossed rose petals, waved handkerchiefs, and chanted the Saintess' name.
No one paid attention to the King, hidden behind the curtains of his carriage. Princess Fiona was also ignored as she sat stiffly on her white mare, her face set in cold anger.
All eyes were on Mirabelle and the Monster.
Revas rode Nightmare, holding the reins with one hand and waving to the crowd with the other, like a triumphant emperor. He caught a rose from a young woman, sniffed it with a flourish, and tucked it behind his ear.
"They adore us!" Revas called out over the noise. "I haven't been this popular since the Great Plague of the Third Age. Back then, though, they screamed in terror, not happiness. Still, it sounds about the same."
