The morning was slow, as it always was.

Before the music, before the laughter, before the colors, there was fire.

I walked through the streets with Lilith beside me, while the scent of burning wood was lingering around us. Small flames flickered in front of homes, in corners of alleyways, at the base of crumbling walls. Some were only candles, others were small, controlled fires—each one a quiet promise that we had not forgotten.

Lilith walked in silence, her usual sharpness dulled by the way people moved around her—soft, careful, as if stepping too hard might disturb something sacred. She looked invested, wondering what’s going on around us.

She stopped when we passed a group of children crouched around a candle, shielding it with their hands. Wax dripped onto their fingers, but they didn’t flinch. They only whispered to each other, eyes flickering between the fire and the sky.

Lilith exhaled, almost as if she’d been holding her breath. “This isn’t what I expected.”

I glanced at her. “How so?”

“I thought it’d be… louder.”

I let go a small smile. “That comes later.”

She gave me a look, waiting for me to explain.

I gestured toward a woman sitting beside a row of candles, pressing her forehead to her knees. She probably lost someone important to the officers. “The morning is for remembering. The fires aren’t just for light—they’re for them.”

Lilith followed my gaze, watching as people were looking at the fires in complete silence. “The ones who fought back?”

I nodded. “The ones who didn’t make it.”

She was quiet.

I let the silence linger before nudging her. “Come on. I have someone to see.”

—

Orid’s place was as busy as ever, filled with workers moving supplies and shouting orders, but I spotted him immediately. He stood near the center, talking with someone, his presence unmistakable.

I barely had time to take a breath before his eyes found me.

He didn’t hesitate—just walked straight toward me and pulled me into a hug. “Oh kid, Musa…”

I felt my shoulders drop, a quiet tension leaving me as I let myself lean into it.

His voice was low. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”

I huffed. “Been busy.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, scanning my face, making sure I was in one piece.

Then, his gaze flicked to Lilith.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”

Lilith shifted, her hands in her pockets. 

He squeezed my shoulder. “Come with me. Let’s light some candles.”

We went to his room, where a row of candles was already standing there. We remember the ones who died fighting that day, but on Nation day you can remember anyone you want. Especially if they died by the hands of officers.

—

Lilith watched as I crouched beside a small fire, striking a match and letting the tiny flame catch onto the candle’s wick.

She crouched beside me and took one of the candles, turning it between her fingers.

She didn’t light it.

Instead, she just watched the fire in front of us, her expression unreadable.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a strip of cloth—something bright, a deep orange-red, almost golden in the firelight.

Before she could react, I took her arm and wrapped it gently around her wrist, securing it in place.

Lilith blinked. “What’s this?”

I smirked. “You can’t walk around looking like that.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Like what?”

“Like you’re in mourning,” I teased. “Where’s the color?”

“People wear dark clothes most of the time,” I explained. “Blends in better, lasts longer.” Then, I smirked. “But today? We wear the brightest things we own.”

She looked down at herself—plain as ever, all muted tones.

I patted her wrist. “Much better.”

She looked at it scanning it thoughtfully with her eyes 

The fires burned steadily as the morning stretched on.

People moved slower, speaking softly, tending to the flames like they were tending to something fragile.

Lilith stood beside me, watching. Taking it all in.

For a long time, neither of us spoke.

Then, finally, I glanced at her.

“You ready?”

She looked at me. “For what?”

I grinned. “The quiet part’s over.”