The weight of exhaustion hung over me as I watched the workers in the village rebuild the damaged homes. My muscles ached from days of ceaseless labor, my hands calloused and raw from hauling timber, clearing debris, and patching walls. The sun bore down relentlessly, yet I barely noticed its heat anymore. Sweat streaked my face, mingling with the dirt that clung stubbornly to my skin. It was hard work, but it was honest, and more importantly, it was necessary.
The village had been my responsibility, and I wouldn’t abandon it now—not after failing to protect it from the raid. I owed these people more than words or orders; I owed them action.
Around me, the sound of hammers striking nails echoed, mingling with the creak of carts laden with stone and wood. Men from nearby villages lent their strength, their shirts sticking to their backs as they worked under the unforgiving sun. Despite their efforts, progress felt slow. For every house we rebuilt, two more reminded us of how much had been lost.
Children darted through the wreckage, their laughter a rare and bittersweet sound. The sight of their joy, undeterred by the surrounding ruins, stirred a faint hope in me—though it was tempered by guilt. They deserved better than this. We all did.
In the center of the village, a large wall stood as a grim reminder of what we were working to restore. Charred and cracked, it bore the weight of grief in the form of tattered papers. Names of the missing. Names of the dead. A silent roll call of loss. I had avoided looking at it for weeks, but now and then, my eyes wandered to the list despite myself. My family’s names weren’t among the dead. That was a small mercy, yet their absence from the living offered no comfort. They were out there, somewhere, but where? My failure to protect the village had extended to them, and that shame was a weight I carried alongside the rubble.
The king’s guards, stationed at the perimeter, looked on with practiced indifference. They fulfilled their duty, bringing supplies and standing watch, but their eyes betrayed their detachment. This wasn’t their home, their loss. To them, we were just another village to tick off their list, another group of survivors to manage before moving on to the next crisis.
I drove a nail into a beam with more force than necessary, the sharp crack ringing out like an echo of my frustration. My thoughts churned with plans—more materials, more manpower, better defenses. If only I had acted sooner... If only I had been stronger...
Lost in the rhythm of work, I barely registered the sound of footsteps until a familiar voice broke through the noise. A voice that I haven’t heard in almost 1 years. But somehow, I can still recognise it
“Michael.”
I froze mid-swing, the hammer heavy in my hand. Turning slowly, I saw them—my old party, standing just beyond the ruined courtyard. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt, memories rushing in like a tide threatening to sweep me away.
Lorin Reias, ever the leader, met my gaze first. His sharp eyes bore into me, their intensity undimmed by time, though streaks of silver now adorned his light green hair. His expression was unreadable, a mix of sternness and concern, but there was something unmistakably familiar in his presence—something I hadn’t realized I’d missed until now.
Behind him, a man with black hair, stood like a mountain, Darven Thrits. His greatsword resting on his back as if it had never left him. His stoic demeanor softened slightly as he nodded at me, offering a rare, small smile that carried the warmth of old camaraderie.
Kiara Turey smirked, her short-cropped bright brick hair giving her a sharper, more mature appearance. She placed a hand on her hip, her bow slung across her back. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Still trying to save the world, are we?”
Cyris Frest, the quiet healer, gave me a look that felt like an embrace. His white hair gleamed in the sunlight, tied back neatly, and his staff bore new charms and sigils, tokens of a healer who had seen more battles than most would care to remember.
Finally, Alina Bayvet stepped forward, her golden eyes steady on me. After 9 years, her blonde hair has no sign of aging. She hadn’t aged a day—or so it seemed. Her twin blades gleamed faintly in the light, their hilts worn but well-maintained. “You look like you’ve been carrying the world on your shoulders,” she said softly.
For a long moment, we stood there, each of us taking in the others’ changes. Then, with a slightly forced laugh, Lorin broke the silence.
“Well, well, I thought the day I’d see you again would be the day I’d put an end to your sorry hide, Michael.”
A chuckle escaped me, but it quickly faded. “Guess you’ll have to wait on that.” The joke fell flat, and I cleared my throat, struggling to find words. “I… I don’t know where to start. I’m sorry, to all of you, for disappearing.”
They didn’t say a word. Feeling awkward, I lead them to my camp near the village but far enough not to be bothered by the construction noises.
We sat around the fire, the crackling flames casting shifting shadows on faces weathered by time and countless battles. It felt like only yesterday that we’d been a young, fearless group, eager to carve our names into the world. Now, as we shared our old tales, I felt the bond that had pulled us together years ago, even if it had been strained by time and distance.
Darven broke the silence, his deep voice cutting through the quiet like a war drum. “Remember that time in the Thorned Gorge? We thought those wyverns were just roosting nearby, but they ended up swarming us.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Never heard so much cursing in my life.”
Kiara laughed, leaning forward with that familiar gleam in her eyes. “Only because Lorin practically shouted at the things, calling them ‘oversized pigeons’! They were bound to get mad after that.”
Lorin shrugged, an unrepentant smile creeping onto his face. “I was just letting them know what I thought of them. And besides, I had you all to protect me.” His gaze lingered on Kiara, who smirked in response, her silver hair catching the firelight.
The memory brought back a flood of images: the echoing screams of the wyverns, the shuddering earth as their massive wings beat against the air, and the desperate struggle as we cut through them, each of us taking on two or three of the beasts, sometimes more. It was a miracle none of us had been severely injured.
Alina, who’d been quietly listening, finally spoke, his voice low and measured. “That was the day we reached A-rank, wasn't it? Afterward, the guildmaster looked at us like we’d returned from the dead.”
Lorin nodded. “Yes, that was it. I still remember his face—like he couldn’t decide whether to cheer or slap us for our recklessness.”
“More than just recklessness,” added Cyris, who had been rolling a small healing potion between his fingers. “That battle forced us to become sharper, to trust each other implicitly. We barely slept after, staying up the whole night at the campsite. I think that was the first time we really realized what we’d become, the lengths we’d go to save each other.”
Darven leaned back against a fallen log, his eyes half-lidded as if seeing that day’s struggles through his mind’s eye. “We were in a constant loop of battles after that. Once you reach A-rank, every guild, every lord wants a piece of you. Half the time, we were on our way to one job when we got called into another.”
“I remember,” I said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Like that dragon hunt near the Emerald Falls. We’d barely put our packs down before another messenger arrived, dragging us into that mess with the bandit lord and his so-called enchanted army.”
Kiara laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “How did we even survive that? A dragon and an army in a single day! We must’ve looked like a gang of madmen.”
“We were madmen,” Aliena said softly, a rare smile curving his lips. “Young, strong, and arrogant enough to believe we could handle anything.”
“And most of the time, we could.” Cyris’ voice softened as he looked into the fire, his expression turning thoughtful. “Do you remember that cavern in the Fallen Peaks? I was sure we’d be buried alive after those traps triggered.”
The mood grew more somber as we recalled that particular mission. The caverns had been infested with monstrous insects, their relentless chittering echoing off the narrow walls. We’d been days underground, picking our way through dark passageways and nearly losing each other in the maze of rock and shadow. The traps had been brutal, hidden runes triggering rockfalls and poisonous spikes that seemed to close in around us at every turn. More than once, I’d thought we wouldn’t make it out.
Kiara nodded, her face serious. “If it hadn’t been for Cyris’s healing and Darven’s brute strength getting us through those blocked passages, we’d have been goners.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it, though,” Darven said, eyes narrowing as he stared into the flames. “Remember the Hydra Den in the Murkwood Marshes? We had to fight that thing, cut off its heads and burn the stumps before it could grow them back. That was the longest battle I’d ever been in.”
I remembered it vividly—the heat, the stench, the way the marshy ground squelched underfoot, making every step a struggle. The Hydra had been relentless, each head snapping at us with deadly intent, fangs dripping with poison. It had been days before we left that marsh, clothes soaked, injuries raw, but alive. Barely.
“It was grueling,” I admitted, looking at each of my comrades, “but we walked away with our lives because we were together. We knew each other’s strengths, our weaknesses. And when we put them together, we were unstoppable.”
Lorin gave me a sidelong glance, his expression softened by a touch of nostalgia. “Until one of us left,” he said, and there was a heaviness in his voice that the firelight couldn’t soften. His words hung in the air, thick with a weight I knew all too well.
I shifted uncomfortably, the weight of their words settling over me. It wasn’t just the memories of camaraderie—it was the reminder of what I had left behind.
“I—” I began, but my voice faltered. Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself to my feet.
The group fell silent, their eyes following me as I stepped closer to the fire. Its flickering light danced across their faces, and for a moment, I hesitated. Then, before I could overthink it, I dropped to my knees, bowing deeply until my forehead touched the ground.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice firm despite the tightness in my chest. “For leaving without an explanation. For abandoning all of you when you needed me most. I don’t know if I can ever make it right, but I—”
Laughter broke through my words, startling me. I raised my head, blinking in confusion as I saw their faces lit with amused grins.
“Gods, Michael,” Kiara said, clutching her sides. “You’re still like this? Always so formal, always bowing and apologizing. It’s like you never left your noble roots behind.”
“You don’t need to grovel, you idiot,” Lorin said, though his voice carried a warmth that eased the sting of his words. “We’re not lords and ladies here. We’re your friends.”
“Exactly,” Darven said, a rare grin spreading across his face. “You’re talking to a group of people who grew up hauling sacks of grain and chasing chickens. Save the kneeling for someone who cares about it.”
I blinked, struggling to find a response. “But I—”
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“Besides,” Kiara interrupted, her smirk turning mischievous. “We all know what this is really about.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, wary of her tone.
“Oh, come on.” She leaned forward, her grin widening. “It’s about Laura, isn’t it?”
The air seemed to leave my lungs. “What? No, I—”
Darven barked out a laugh. “Please. You think we didn’t notice? You were always finding excuses to hang around her team.”
Cyris, usually quiet, added with a chuckle, “And remember how you tried to show off during that monster hunt? Jumping in front of her team like some kind of knight in shining armor?”
“That was a tactical move!” I protested, feeling heat rise to my face.
“Tactical,” Alina said, her serene voice laced with humor. “Like when her team called you a ‘creep’ and told her to stay away from you?”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I didn’t know they thought that!”
“They did,” Kiara said, laughing. “But honestly, it was hilarious watching you try so hard to impress her. You were hopeless.”
“Hopelessly obvious,” Lorin corrected, smirking. “But hey, it was... endearing in its own way.”
The firelight blurred as I stared at the ground, mortified and baffled. “You all knew? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We didn’t need to,” Darven said, leaning back. “It was written all over your face. Besides, you weren’t exactly subtle.”
Kiara snorted. “Subtle? Michael? Don’t make me laugh.”
Their teasing filled the air, laughter spilling freely around the fire. As embarrassing as it was, I couldn’t deny the warmth it brought. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged—not just to a group, but to them. To my friends.
“Alright,” Kiara said, stretching her arms lazily. “Now that we’ve dealt with all the sappy stuff, can we talk about how Michael’s hair looks even worse than it did back then? Do you even own a comb?”
The group chuckled, but Lorin remained quiet. His gaze was fixed on me, his expression unreadable. The firelight reflected in his sharp eyes as he stood and approached me. I instinctively tensed, unsure of what he was about to say.
“Michael,” Lorin began, his voice steady and firm, “I’m glad we’re all sitting here together. But there’s something I need from you before I can forgive you.”
My breath hitched. “What is it?”
Lorin extended a hand, helping me to my feet. “A duel.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “A... duel?”
“Yes,” he said simply, his gaze never wavering. “You left us without a word, Michael. You’ve carried that guilt, and I can see it weighing you down. But guilt doesn’t change the past. If you can’t fully let it go, how will you face the future?”
He paused, his voice softening as he added, “How will you face the future where your family is together again, sitting around a table and eating happily? You can’t rebuild what you lost if you’re still dragging around what you broke.”
I stared at him, his words striking a chord deep within me.
“And if you do manage to reunite with your family,” Kiara chimed in from behind, her grin audible in her tone, “make sure to save us a couple of seats at the table, alright?”
The others laughed, but my focus remained on Lorin. I felt the tension in my chest begin to ease, replaced by something steadier. Hope.
“You’ve always been the one who fought hardest for others,” Lorin continued. “Now, prove you can fight for yourself. Face me, and show me you’re ready to stand up again.”
A smile spread across my face, slow but genuine. I reached out and clasped Lorin’s arm tightly. “Alright,” I said, meeting his gaze with resolve. “Let’s do it.”
We stepped into position, the rest of the group backing away to give us space. My sword rested firmly in my hands, and I took a deep breath, centering myself. Lorin stood a short distance away. Using wind magic, he controlled his swords orbiting him in a slow, deliberate dance. There are 4 of them, I remembered in the past he only used 2, after all, he has grown stronger. We all had.
“Ready?” Lorin asked.
I smirked. “Always.”
Lorin raised his hand, and the wind shifted unnaturally, his light swords hovering around him like silent sentinels. I tensed. Something was different. I could feel it. Before I could question it further, Lorin lunged, his weapons slicing through the air like extensions of his will.
“Still quick with a blade,” Lorin said with a smirk, as I narrowly dodged the first two strikes and parried the third. “But let’s see how you handle this.”
Without a word, Lorin flicked his fingers, and a Vacuum Blade, one of his signature move. It concentrates the mana on the tips of each swords to extend it and cut through the space between us with nearly invisible slashes.. It came fast—too fast for him to have spoken the incantation. My eyes widened as I leaped to the side, the blade slicing through the dirt where I had stood moments before.
“What the—” I started, my breath catching.
“No incantation needed,” Lorin said casually, his grin widening as he stepped forward. “I learned a few things after you left. Four years at the Grand Nethis Magic Academy tends to do that.”
“You’re kidding me,” I muttered, blocking one of his light swords as it came spinning toward me. The weightless blade crashed against my own with surprising force, forcing me back a step.
“Hardly,” he replied, summoning a whirlwind around him that sent debris flying. “Voiceless incantation. No chants, no gestures—just pure control. Took years to master, but it was worth it.”
He didn’t give me time to respond. His wind magic twisted around us, manipulating the currents to keep his light swords in constant motion. They darted and danced, cutting through the space between us like vipers. Each time I thought I had a rhythm on him, he’d shift, the winds bending unpredictably to his will.
“You’ve definitely gotten stronger,” I admitted, ducking under a slash and charging forward.
“But you’re still as stubborn as ever!” Lorin shot back, twisting the wind to propel himself backward, just out of my reach. He sent another Vacuum Blade, forcing me to leap away again.
The memory came to me unbidden, just as I ducked another flurry of attacks. Years ago, in a muddy field outside a small town. I came to the town after 4 years training at the Land of the Holy Sword. I helped the villagers with harvesting herbs, doing performances for the kids, and guard the town. Until I met Lorin and the others.
Lorin and I had fought like this—not recklessly, but with a fierce determination to prove ourselves. He’d accused me of stealing supplies, and I, with my youthful strength, had refused to stand down.
He wasn’t the clumsy spellcaster then that I had just assumed. No, even at sixteen, Lorin’s wind magic had been sharp and deliberate, though not as polished as it was now. And I wasn’t just a hot-headed swordsman relying on brute force. My strikes were calculated, and every swing carried intent.
“You remember that day?” Lorin asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension of the fight.
I grinned, narrowly dodging one of his wind-propelled blades. “How could I forget? You accused me of stealing and then tried to beat me into the ground with your fancy wind tricks.”
Lorin parried my next strike, his light swords forming a protective barrier around him. “Fancy wind tricks? I seem to recall landing more hits on you than you did on me!”
“Oh, please,” I shot back, charging in and forcing him to retreat with a sweep of my blade. “You barely kept up. If anything, I let you win because you were whining so much!”
Lorin barked a laugh, twisting his wrist to redirect his swords in a wide arc. I ducked under the spinning blades, narrowly avoiding a counterstrike. “Let me win? You’re delusional. You were just mad I kept pushing you back!”
I didn’t deny it, remembering how his wind magic had made it nearly impossible to get close to him. Even then, he’d known how to exploit his range advantage, frustrating me to no end. “You were stubborn as hell,” I admitted, slashing at the incoming light swords and deflecting them.
“And you nearly broke my ribs with that last charge!” Lorin shot back, his grin widening as he sent a powerful gust of wind my way.
“Not my fault you didn’t dodge in time,” I replied, sidestepping the attack and closing the gap between us.
The memory of that fight warmed me, even in the heat of this one. Back then, neither of us had yielded, and it had taken Kiara and the others to step in and drag us apart before we finally called it a draw. It was that moment, though, that had cemented our rivalry—and our friendship.
“Some things never change,” Lorin said with a smirk, his wind magic swirling around him like a living thing.
“Some things don’t have to,” I countered, smiling despite myself.
After almost an hour of going all out, the fight was wearing us both down. His light swords began to falter, their movements sluggish. My arms felt like lead, my grip on my sword slipping with every swing.
Finally, we both dropped our weapons, too tired to lift them anymore. We lunged at each other with nothing but our fists.
“You punch like a kid!” Lorin shouted, laughing through the exhaustion as his fist barely grazed my shoulder.
“You’re not exactly intimidating either!” I retorted, landing a weak jab on his arm.
We grappled like children, our movements clumsy and ridiculous. Memories of our first fight flashed through my mind—mud, fists, shouting—and I couldn’t help but laugh. Lorin must have remembered too, because he grinned at me despite the bruises already forming on his face.
Our friends stood off to the side, shaking their heads.
“Some things never change,” Kiara said, leaning against a tree.
“Should we stop them?” Alina asked, arms crossed.
“Not yet,” Darven replied with a smirk. “They’ll tire themselves out.”
And we did. With one final, feeble punch to each other’s faces, we collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
Lorin turned his head to look at me, his expression soft despite the bruises. “Alright, Michael. I forgive you.”
I blinked, surprised by the suddenness of his words. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “But don’t make me do this again.”
I laughed weakly, staring up at the stars. “Deal.”
We all laughed, the tension dissolving as we shared the warmth of the fire and the weight of our memories.
It was then that Darven spoke up, his brow furrowed. “So what’s the plan, Michael? Staying here and rebuilding won’t bring back your family.”
I looked down, my mind racing. “The king’s help is… limited, to say the least. He sent a few soldiers, but it’s hardly enough. And I’m not sure I can track them on my own.”
Darven raised an eyebrow. “Your father. Why haven’t you asked him?”
I shook my head, the thought of facing my father igniting a wave of frustration and regret. “My father and I… We’ve been estranged for years. I left his house behind, and we haven’t spoken since. He wouldn’t care, not after all these years.”
“But he’s one of the most influential nobles in Myttas, isn’t he?” Kiara countered. “Even if things are… strained, Michael, he may still help. He has resources. Men.”
Everyone looked at me, their expressions a mix of hope and insistence. Alina’s voice was calm but firm as she added, “It may be difficult, but he’s still your father. If it means finding your family, perhaps it’s time to set old grievances aside.”
I clenched my fists, uncertainty gnawing at me. But deep down, I knew they were right. I didn’t have the luxury of pride or stubbornness. Not anymore.
Finally, I nodded, and they all let out breaths they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. “All right. Myttas, then. The journey will take at least a year.”
Darven slapped me on the back, grinning. “That’s the spirit. Let’s get on the road again. Been too long since we’ve had a proper adventure.”
The rest of the day was spent gathering supplies and saying farewell to the village. That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the ruins, I stood with my friends, my comrades. A surge of determination welled within me. We had a long road ahead, but with them by my side, the journey felt somehow bearable.
As we prepared to leave the village, I found myself drawn to the flickering light of a lone candle, casting shadows on the rough wooden table where I sat. I stared at the empty page in front of me, my hands hovering over it, the words I needed to say to my son forming in my mind but refusing to settle on paper.
With a heavy sigh, I dipped the pen into ink and began to write, the words coming slowly, carefully.
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To my son, Duke,
If you’re reading this, then somehow, fate has brought you back to this village. I hope you’re safe, that you’re strong, and that you’re ready to hear what I have to tell you.
This kingdom—our home—has cracks deeper than I ever realized. Corruption runs through its veins, eroding it from within. I can’t trust the people in power here, the ones who should be helping us. That’s why I couldn’t stay, why I had to set out on my own, and why I couldn’t ask for help from anyone but the people I trust most: my old comrades.
Your mother is out there, and I can’t rest until I find her. My friends and I are heading to Myttas, a kingdom to the west of Redmount with less resources but more reach than here. It’s a journey that could take us over a year, but we’re prepared to do whatever it takes.
But Duke, if you come across this letter, I need you to go the opposite way of Myttas. Seek the hidden paths, the ones less guarded. From what I’ve uncovered, I believe your mother was taken not north, but somewhere farther south. Head toward the coast and search where the king’s influence begins to thin. I pray this will lead you closer to finding her than I ever could.
Stay strong, my son. Trust yourself and those who stand beside you. And know that your mother and I… we love you beyond measure. Whatever happens, don’t give up. I’m proud of the man you’re becoming.
Be careful, Duke. And never let the darkness of this world extinguish your light.
With all my love,
Father
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I finished the letter, folding it carefully and sealing it, then left it in a place I thought he’d recognize, should he return here. It was a small chance, but it was one I was willing to take. If my own journey took me too far or worse, if I didn’t make it back, at least Duke would have something, some clue to guide him.