They found the valley on the seventh day.
It was hidden between two peaks, accessible only through a narrow canyon that could be defended by a handful of warriors. A stream ran through its center, cold and clear. Trees grew on its slopes—not the giant trees of the old forest, but young ones, hopeful ones. Life, returning.
"This is it," Kaelen said. "This is where we rebuild."
The survivors spread out, exploring, claiming spaces, beginning the slow work of making a home. Shelters went up. Fires were lit. Children, for the first time in weeks, began to play.
Rial found Kaelen sitting alone on a rock, watching the sunset.
"You did this," she said. "You brought us here. You kept us alive."
"I did what anyone would do."
"No." She sat beside him. "You did what you would do. What no one else could. You're not just a warrior, Kaelen. You're a leader. A symbol. You gave these people hope when they had none."
He looked at her. "Hope for what?"
"That's the thing about hope." She almost smiled. "It doesn't need a reason. It just needs to exist."