Once they got back to San Asari, they just…allowed themselves to relax. It came easier than Tara expected, honestly; she almost thought she would be haunted with nightmares, wondered if she would wake up to see Itzun frowning or smiling and telling her there was still more.

But November ended and December drew to a close with the most eventful thing being the city’s first official snow. She appreciated being able to enjoy it the same way they always have, but with the assurance it could be the same for the next year or longer.

The end of the year, quite frankly, snuck up on her. Settling into her previous routine seemed to make the days move by quicker. She only fully acknowledged it came because Matteo asked Adelinde early in the last week when they would go out for the last sunset and first sunrise.

From there, she kept track of the days so she could prepare—mentally, if nothing else. More people usually walked around during the end of the year than they did for the arts festival; there was a bit more to see and do to end the year and start the new one. Tara hoped she could focus on something other than just drawing, but she wouldn’t be able to enjoy anything if she didn’t bring at least a sketchbook with her.

She woke up on the morning of to a light knock on her door and Adelinde’s gentle reminder.

“Breakfast’s ready. Come down whenever you’re dressed.”

Tara murmured an “okay” back, but she didn’t entirely know if Adelinde heard or not. She immediately got out of bed so they weren’t waiting for her.

She expected to be up later, so she laid out clothes the night before. Without needing to take the extra time to pretend to dye her hair—she didn’t even have the bottle she kept the fake dye in anymore, having discarded it almost immediately—she got dressed and went downstairs relatively quickly.

She went down to the kitchen once she was ready, taking her spot without much hesitation while still feeling a bit tired. All of the food was already laid out, with Tara being the last to start eating.

“You’re getting down later than you used to,” Rene noted.

“I think it’s just a matter of no longer being tied to others,” Tara said. “Thinking on it, I slept and felt better while we were traveling for the legend—aside from the general fears and annoyances associated with it, at least.”

“You said you felt best when I had migraines,” Rene recalled. She paused for a second to eat a bit more, then let out a little ‘huh’ before clarifying. “I don’t think I’ve actually had a migraine since you guys came back.”

“The binding at the gravestone might have broken, too,” Matteo said, glancing at her. “That was the cause of it, right?”

“A combination of having something bound for fourteen years, the person it was holding together, and the fact I have a lot more Sólstaðuric blood in me than omynic,” Rene answered with a nod. “If I have gotten migraines since then, they’ve been a lot milder.”

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“It makes sense, to some extent,” Adelinde mused. “It lets everyone know it’s actually over. I can’t imagine those who wanted it would be pleased, but for me it’s a relief.”

Rene gave her an almost apologetic look. “I know you were worried about that for a while.”

Adelinde returned it with a smile. “I’m just…glad I don’t have to fear it anymore—about you, Matteo, or Tara. Any concerns from here on out will just be normal life, not the design of a god who didn’t understand the kind of pain his little game will bring.”

Everyone murmured their agreement. They had evidence it worked—between Tara’s changes in sleeping and her hair growing back red, as well as the other things like Rene’s absence of migraines—so it wouldn’t be too out of place to assume it’s fine. It’s what Itzun promised.

For the rest of the meal and while Tara finished eating, they entertained a different line of conversation. They went out once the dishes were cleaned up and Tara got her sketchbook.

…

This year’s festival actually seemed to be larger than usual—either that, or this was the first festival that she actually paid attention to the scenery around her. The music around them, even from the instruments scattered in front of stores, all seemed to be coordinated.

They stopped by the palace first to get Mark, then walked around for another hour or two. Tara didn’t draw as much as she thought; she kept her sketchbook close, but didn’t open it until they went back to the palace to warm up.

Some of Matteo’s friends came for company and hot chocolate, eventually asking Tara to draw some quick pictures for a few games. They did a few rounds of charades before heading out to entertain younger siblings and children wandering with their families. She appreciated the relative quietness, only altered as Mark and Adelinde exchanged comments on certain political matters and Rene occasionally told a story about her work.

Matteo came back in time for lunch, then the family—barring Mark, who had some final things to do before the year ended—went into the music room. The windows brought in enough light to bring a pleasant kind of warmth; her first movement after the others entered was to make her way to the windows to fully judge the weather.

“I can’t see any clouds,” Tara reported, almost smiling. The sunlight brought her more comfort than it usually did.

“It might be a good year, then,” Matteo noted happily. Adelinde took her spot behind the piano while the other three moved around to find some seats. Tara, in the interest of letting Mark have a chair, sat down on the floor next to Rene.

“We’ll be able to see the sunset nicely, at least,” Rene agreed.

Adelinde tested out a few keys before deciding on a song. “These past few months have been busy. I wouldn’t mind an uneventful winter in return.”

Tara murmured some agreement. If nothing else, things that have bothered her for years were finally spoken about and taken care of. She imagined that some of Adelinde and Rene’s fears were addressed as well.

She tried to draw with music as her background as Mark came in and the other three took up an instrument for a sort of idle symphony. The sight outside, although barely anything moved, distracted her.

Tara liked how blue the sky was—how it was almost bright enough that the light reflecting off the snow made it nigh impossible to actually look at the ground, encouraging everyone to keep their eyes up. She wished she could draw it in a way that would carry over well; even a photograph couldn’t really maintain the same feeling, limiting it all to grays or faded colors.

She would just have to commit it to memory: the view of the music room of the last day she had to fear she would never see another new year again, either because her family shunned her or because Dakari ceased to be.

For everyone else, it meant a return to normalcy. For her, it meant finally being able to accept it.

She couldn’t wait for the first year of truly feeling like she deserved to be here.