Kyrian returned to his courtyard late at night.
The streets of the Sky Caravan were still bustling, though far less than they had been a few hours earlier.
The festival's euphoria had gradually faded as the night wore on, replaced by a pleasant weariness that spread through the city like a gentle tide.
Spiritual lanterns swayed softly in the night breeze, casting golden light across the stone pathways, creating dancing shadows that seemed to have a life of their own.
In the distance, music could still be heard, string and wind instruments intertwining in ancient melodies.
Occasional bursts of laughter echoed from a restaurant or drink stall, where groups of cultivators celebrated the day's achievements.
The constant activity of the Festival of the Heavenly Descent continued, but now at a slower, more intimate pace.
But here... in his small courtyard... everything was peaceful.
