As we traveled along the road toward Redmount, the horse cart rocked gently beneath us, and I could feel my pulse quickening the closer we got. Sylas sat beside me, her hands fidgeting as she glanced at the passing trees, her expression a mix of excitement and dread. I caught her eye and offered a small, reassuring smile, though my heart was pounding just as hard as hers.

Mira, noticing our anxious expressions, leaned over with a smirk. "You two look like you’re on your way to face down a dragon. What’s up with the nerves?"

I forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. "It’s just… been a long time since we left. Feels strange coming back, you know?"

Kael leaned forward, his usual seriousness softened by curiosity. "Strange how? Like… you think it won’t feel the same?"

Sylas nodded, her gaze distant. "Something like that. So much has happened. I’m not sure how I’ll feel when we finally get there."

Before any of us could say more, we crested a small hill, and Redmount spread out below us. My heart stilled as I took in the sight—the walls repaired and freshly reinforced, homes with new roofs, and people everywhere, working together. It wasn’t the same Redmount I remembered, but in a way, it felt… stronger, somehow, like the village had endured and grown from the pain.

As we entered the village, the sounds of hammers and voices filled the air. Villagers were working on rooftops, securing shingles and repainting walls, while others tilled the fields and planted new crops. Children darted between them, their laughter echoing down the lanes.

I exchanged a look with Sylas, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow that I couldn’t quite put into words. The village had survived, but the question that lingered, unspoken between us, was how many had been lost.

A familiar voice called out from nearby, hesitant yet laced with disbelief.

"Duke? Sylas?"

I turned at the sound, and my breath caught in my throat. The man standing before us was Garron, a village carpenter I had known since childhood. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, but the past year had clearly taken a toll on him. His once well-kept beard was now a mess of overgrown stubble, his clothes dirtied from labor, and deep exhaustion clung to his face. Even so, his eyes—widening in shock—still held a familiar warmth.

"By the gods…" He took a step closer, rubbing his eyes as if he feared we were a mirage. "Is it really you two? We… we feared the worst."

I managed a shaky smile, but something inside me felt hollow. "It’s us, alright. We… we've been through a lot."

Sylas, standing beside me, nodded firmly. "And it seems like you all have too."

Garron let out a long sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. "There’s been nothing but worry and rebuilding here. The missing ones… they’ve kept us all hoping, though some days it felt like just hanging on by a thread."

Mira, Kael, and Kaldor stood quietly behind us, observing. I suddenly realized that Garron had no idea who they were.

I turned to him. "These are my friends. Mira, Kael, and Kaldor." I gestured to each of them. "We've been traveling together for months now."

Garron gave them a curious look before nodding. "More travelers, huh?"

Mira stepped forward, offering a polite smile. "It’s nice to meet you, sir."

Kael, always more reserved, simply gave a nod. "Likewise."

Kaldor, towering over everyone, rumbled out a "Hello."

Garron gave a small chuckle, but his expression quickly turned serious. "Well, you lot must have your reasons for traveling with these two. Just know that Redmount is a place that’s been through hell."

I nodded. "That’s why we’re here. But there’s something else I need to tell you, Garron." I took a breath, steadying myself. "I’ve decided to become an adventurer."

His brows shot up in shock. "An adventurer?" His eyes flickered down, and for the first time, I saw realization dawn on his face as he noticed the two swords strapped to my hips. His gaze shifted, scanning over my friends—Kael’s dagger, Mira’s staff, Kaldor’s heavy gauntlets, and Sylas’s magic-conducting gloves.

His mouth opened slightly before he let out a long, deep sigh. "I see… the small, little Duke has grown into a much more independent lad."

There was something in his voice—relief, maybe even pride—but also worry. He crossed his arms, his expression turning firm. "But listen to me, Duke, Sylas, all of you… being an adventurer isn’t just about seeing the world or swinging a sword. It’s dangerous. Deadly. I’ve seen too many leave Redmount full of dreams and never return."

Sylas met his gaze, unwavering. "We know that, Garron. We've been through enough to understand the risks."

Kael smirked slightly. "We’re not just kids playing hero, if that’s what you’re worried about."

Mira crossed her arms, nodding. "We’ve faced real danger and survived. We know what we’re doing."

Kaldor gave a simple, "We can handle it."

Garron studied each of them carefully before finally looking back at me. "And you, Duke? You really think you can handle that life?"

I met his gaze, unwavering. "I don’t just think it, Garron. I know it."

For a moment, he was silent. Then, he let out another sigh—this time, one of reluctant acceptance. "You really have grown, haven’t you?" He shook his head with a tired chuckle. "Alright, lad. If this is the path you've chosen, I won't stop you. Just… don’t get yourself killed out there."

I nodded, determination burning in my chest. "I won’t."

I swallowed hard, exchanging a glance with Sylas before looking back at him. "Could you… show us to the missing person wall?"

At that, Garron's expression grew even heavier, and for a moment, he hesitated. "Aye, I’ll take you there… but before that, you should know what’s been happening here."

Mira, Kael, and Kaldor stood silently behind us, observing, but I could tell they were listening closely.

Garron took a deep breath and began. "It's been ten months since we started rebuilding Redmount. We're nearly done—just a few more days and we'll have it standing strong again."

Sylas and I both sighed in relief. At least… the village survived.

But then, Garron’s expression darkened. "Your father, Duke—Michael—he reported the attack to the king, demanding aid. And the king… he actually sent soldiers here."

I felt a small weight lift from my chest, only for it to come crashing back down when I saw the anger behind Garron’s eyes.

"Two months after the attack, they finally arrived… but all they did was set up camp near the collapsed village. That’s it."

I blinked. "What? What do you mean that’s it?"

Garron let out a bitter laugh. "They sat there, relaxing, drinking from their fancy flasks, eating well while we struggled to get enough food for the builders and farmers. They played cards, laughed at us while we carried wood, bricks, and tools all day."

My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. "You’re joking."

"I wish I was, lad." Garron shook his head. "We had to feed them, too. Do you know how much that drained us? We were already barely getting by, and those bastards ate better than we did."

Sylas clenched his jaw. "And no one tried to stop them?"

Garron exhaled sharply. "At first, we endured it. We thought, maybe they’ll actually start helping. Maybe they’re just getting settled. But weeks passed, then months, and they still did nothing but waste our food and mock our struggles. When we protested, they had the nerve to act like we were the problem."

A bitter silence fell over us. My head felt hot with anger, but there was still one thing that didn't make sense.

"On the way here, I didn’t see any sign of a camp," I said, my voice low. "Where are they now?"

Garron’s lips curled into a humorless smirk. "They left. Right after we ran out of patience."

Sylas narrowed her eyes. "They just left?"

"We staged a protest," Garron explained. "Told them we wouldn’t give them another damn bite of food unless they actually helped us rebuild. Turns out, their laziness outweighed their arrogance. They packed up and left within days."

I let out a slow breath, trying to contain the burning frustration inside me. I had seen corruption before, but this? This was personal.

"I can't believe it," Mira muttered behind us, crossing her arms. "The king’s own soldiers did this?"

"We don’t blame the king," Garron said with a sigh. "He sent help, but it was the wrong kind of people. And we had no choice but to survive on our own, like we always have."

Kael huffed. "So they came, ate your food, laughed at you, then left?"

"That’s the truth of it," Garron muttered.

Kaldor, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. "That’s beyond shameful."

I took a deep breath and looked toward the village, scanning the newly built homes, the familiar streets that were now filled with fresh lumber and signs of reconstruction. "Well… at least you did it. Without them."

Garron gave a small, tired smile. "Aye. We did. And now, we’re almost home again."

We have arrived at the centre of the village, where a large board was erected, covered in names and faces. My heart clenched as I scanned the wall, looking for my family. My fingers stopped on the names of my mother and sister, who were still listed among the missing.

A glimmer of hope sparked within me—still missing, not lost. I glanced at Sylas, who was staring at the name of her father, her lips pressed tight. I wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her, but no words felt right.

The villager caught my attention again, his voice low. “Michael… he left about ten months ago. Went searching, like so many others.” He sighed, looking away. “He hasn’t returned.”

A strange relief filled me. Dad was out there, still searching, just like I’d hoped. He hadn’t given up, and neither would I.

Without hesitation, I turned to the others. “Let’s help,” I said firmly. “Let’s do whatever we can to get this village back on its feet.”

Kaldor clapped a hand on my shoulder, his usual grin softened. “Lead the way, boss. We’re with you.”

And so, we threw ourselves into the work. Kaldor, Kael, and I tackled the buildings, hauling lumber and hammering new shingles, filling the air with the sounds of construction. Sylas and Mira joined the others to prepare meals for everyone, bringing trays of food to those working and tending to the fields to ensure the village’s future.

The days fell into a steady rhythm of hard work, and as we toiled side by side, something shifted. The village was becoming whole again, and so were we.

One day, as the sun hung high overhead, we found ourselves at the outskirts of the village. The scent of freshly turned earth mixed with the crisp autumn breeze, but there was something heavier in the air here—a quietness, a weight.

A graveyard.

I felt my chest tighten. Sylas and I knew exactly what this place was.

Before I could say a word, Sylas suddenly broke into a sprint.

"Sylas!" I called after her, but she didn’t stop.

We ran after her, my heart pounding—not out of exertion, but out of dread.

Sylas weaved through the rows of graves, her eyes darting over the tombstones, scanning desperately for something. She didn’t stop, not until she reached a particular grave, where her footsteps slowed and finally halted.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

A simple stone marker, no different from the rest. Covered in dust and tangled vines. But despite the wear of time, the name was still visible.

Thalion.

Just one name. No family name—elves never used them. Just Thalion.

Sylas sank to her knees before it, her fingers trembling as she brushed away the dirt clinging to the carved letters.

I swallowed hard, my own hands clenching at my sides. I knew better than to say anything.

Turning slightly, I gestured to Kael, Mira, and Kaldor, whispering, "Let's give her some privacy."

They nodded, understanding. Without another word, we left her there, allowing her the moment she needed.

The past few days, we had been sleeping in tents that we built ourselves, but now that the village was finally rebuilt, the relief was almost overwhelming. The homes stood tall again, the fields showed signs of healthy crops, and the people who had once lived in fear now had a place to call their own again.

We walked through the village, taking in the changes. Despite having been here during the final stages of reconstruction, now that everything was truly done, it felt… different.

Mira looked around in amazement. "It’s strange… even though we were part of rebuilding it, seeing it now, completely finished, it feels almost like a whole new village."

Kaldor nodded. "It has life again."

Kael smirked faintly. "Still looks a little rough around the edges, though."

I huffed a small laugh. "That’s Redmount for you."

But as we passed by a small familiar building, something felt… off.

I slowed my steps, staring at it. My heartbeat quickened.

My friends looked at me in confusion.

"Duke? What’s wrong?" Kael asked.

I tried to answer, but my throat closed up. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Something about this place—

I took a step closer.

Mira stepped in front of me, her brows furrowed. "Duke, you’re not making any sense—"

And then, she gasped.

"Duke, you're… crying."

I blinked. Tears blurred my vision, and I hadn't even realized they were there.

The word finally slipped from my mouth.

"Home."

A shaky breath left me. My body trembled.

I staggered forward, barely managing to speak. "Tell Sylas… when she’s ready… to go back home." I turned to the others, my voice breaking. "And you guys—feel free to stay at my place."

Without waiting for a response, I ran.

I pushed open the door.

And for the first time in ten months, I stepped back into my home.

The walls were just as I remembered—sturdy, familiar, holding all the echoes of a simpler past. Every worn chair, every scuff on the floor, held pieces of the life I’d once had. It should’ve been comforting, but as I moved through each room, touching the edges of faded memories, I was struck by an unexpected emptiness. It felt like standing inside a shell of something I’d outgrown, something that had changed, or maybe it was me who had changed.

I stopped by the window, gazing out at the village. Children played in the twilight, their laughter pure and carefree, rippling through the air like the ringing of bells. They ran through the streets, innocent of the world beyond the hills that surrounded us, untouched by fear or loss. I watched them, feeling something inside me crack open, raw and aching. I felt a sting of jealousy—a pang of grief. I was their age, but it felt as if I had aged years in only months. I couldn’t help but wonder, what would I have been if I’d never left.

An overwhelming weight pressed against my chest as the memories came rushing back—days without rest, hiding in dark forests, fending off attacks, struggling to keep everyone safe. I remembered the sting of hunger, the cold ache of nights without shelter, and the constant, gnawing fear that we wouldn’t survive to see the next dawn. We had all suffered, and scraped ourselves raw, just to make it through. I wanted to stay here, to just forget for a while, but that didn’t feel right either. I wasn’t sure I’d ever belong here the way I once had.

I thought of my friends, of the bond we’d formed, stronger than any tie I’d ever known. They’d suffered with me, lost their own homes, and yet… maybe it was time for them to find something more, to look for the lives they might still have left. They deserved peace, security, and maybe even happiness. But the thought of letting them go tore at me. It felt like losing a part of myself—losing the only people who truly understood what we’d endured together.

As I stood there, the hollow feeling in my chest grew sharper, cutting deeper. I knew that some part of me was clinging to them, afraid that without them, I’d be left with nothing but these fractured memories of pain and survival. We’d been through too much and changed each other too deeply. Could I really let them go?

I leaned my head against the window frame, closing my eyes as a bitter thought wormed its way in. Perhaps I’d become selfish, holding onto them as a way to make sense of my own scars, keeping us bound by the shadows of what we’d endured. And yet, I couldn’t deny the truth—I didn’t want to face what lay beyond this. I didn’t know how to move forward without them.

As the children’s laughter continued to ring out, I tried to picture my friends leaving, returning to lives they barely remembered. I tried to imagine myself here, alone, watching them from a distance, and the thought hollowed me out. If they left, I would lose the only part of my life that still felt real, the only reminder that our struggles, our suffering, had meaning. But if they stayed… could I really ask them to keep living in the shadow of our shared pain?

I was caught between two worlds—between the child I had been and the person I’d become. This village might have healed, but I wasn’t sure I ever could. I looked at the sky, stars blinking into existence one by one, and felt a deep, gnawing uncertainty rise within me. I wanted them to stay. I wanted us to be together, to keep fighting, to hold on to the purpose that had driven us through so many dark nights. But I knew, deep down, that some things couldn’t be rebuilt the way a village could.

That night, I called everyone together in the living room. They sat in a circle, their faces familiar yet different, each of them having grown stronger and wiser. They looked at me, knowing what I was about to say.

Kaldor was the first to speak, his voice calm but firm. “Duke, we know what you’re thinking… We’ve all been thinking about it.”

Mira nodded, glancing at each of us before settling her gaze on me. “And we’ve made a decision.” She took a slow breath, her expression bittersweet. “It’s time for us to find our own places, our own homes. You and Sylas… you’ve given us so much. But we can’t keep relying on you.”

My chest tightened. I looked at them—Kael, Mira, Kaldor. My friends. My family.

I opened my mouth to argue, but… could I really?

They had a point. We had been together for so long, but this wasn’t their home. They deserved to find their own places in the world.

I forced myself to nod, even as something inside me ached. “If that’s what you all want, then… I understand.”

But before anyone could respond, Sylas suddenly shot to her feet, fists clenched at her sides, her face flushed with raw emotion.

“No!”

Her voice rang through the room, fierce and unwavering. The air grew heavy with her defiance. We all turned to her in shock.

“You’re not going anywhere.” She looked at each of us, her emerald eyes ablaze with conviction. “We’ve been through too much to just… to just leave each other now!”

Silence.

No one spoke. No one moved.

Then, softer, but no less powerful—“We’re a family.”

Her voice shook, but her resolve did not.

“Maybe not by blood, but by everything we’ve been through together. Every fight, every moment we spent watching each other’s backs, every time we risked our lives. That doesn’t just disappear because we finally have a roof over our heads.”

She swallowed hard, her shoulders trembling, but she didn’t look away.

“We stay together. Until the end.”

Her words hit like a crashing wave, washing away every doubt, every hesitation.

I stared at her, stunned.

Kael’s usual smirk faltered, replaced by something softer. “Sylas…”

Mira bit her lip, her hands curling into fists.

Kaldor exhaled a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “…She’s right.”

I looked at each of them, seeing their uncertainty crack, giving way to relief.

They didn’t really want to go. They were scared.

And I had been selfish.

I had a home to return to. A father, a sister, a village that welcomed me back. But they… they had only us.

I cleared my throat, a new sense of purpose steadied my voice.

“Sylas is right.” I met their eyes, my grip tightening at my sides. “We’re not done yet. We’re sticking together, all of us. There’s more out there to see and more adventures waiting for us—together.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then, Kael smirked, shaking his head. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Mira laughed softly, wiping at the corner of her eyes. “Guess we don’t really have a choice, huh?”

Kaldor rumbled a deep chuckle. “Not that I’d want one.”

The weight in the air shifted. A warmth filled the room.

We weren’t just adventurers traveling together. We were something more.

A family.

And nothing was going to change that.

Kael let out a slow breath, crossing his arms. “Well… I guess if we’re talking about the future, I should be honest too.”

We all turned to him as he leaned against the wall, a thoughtful look in his sharp eyes.

“Once we’ve gotten Mira and Kaldor home… I think I’ll keep working as an adventurer for a while. See where the road takes me.” His voice was light, but there was something far-off in his gaze. “But someday? I think I’d like to settle down in a quiet village somewhere. Maybe open up a blacksmith shop.”

I raised a brow. “A blacksmith?”

Kael shrugged. “Why not? I’ve always liked working with weapons, and I bet I could make a decent living out of it. Maybe even get myself a wife. Have some lovely kids. Live until the end like a normal person.”

Silence.

Then—

Laughter.

Mira burst out giggling. “Oh gods, Kael—who even says ‘lovely kids’ like that?”

Kaldor let out a deep chuckle. “Didn’t take you for the fatherly type.”

Sylas smirked, her arms crossed. “You? Living quietly? With kids running around? I’d pay to see that.”

Kael rolled his eyes, huffing. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. But when it happens, you better visit.”

I grinned, shaking my head. “You’re already planning that far ahead, huh?”

Kael’s smirk softened, just a little. “I mean it, though. Even if we all go our own ways one day… I hope we can still see each other. Once in a while.”

The teasing died down.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Because we knew. One day, this would end. We couldn’t stay together forever. But that day wasn’t today. And when it did come? We’d find our way back.

After talking for a while, I noticed something odd—a small crack in the wall just by the staircase. It stood out in a home that seemed so familiar yet so changed, and it didn’t make sense that no one had fixed it during the reconstruction. Curiosity got the better of me. I reached over, gently prying the wood apart just a bit more, and felt something wedged inside—a slim envelope, slightly yellowed with age, and a small, familiar-looking bag of coins.

I pulled them out carefully, studying the envelopes outside, my heart skipping a beat as I saw my name scrawled in my father’s handwriting.

The sight of it almost hurt. I hadn’t seen that handwriting in so long, yet it was unmistakable. The ink was faded, smudged in places, as though he’d written it in a hurry. I opened the envelope, unfolding the letter slowly. It had been ten months since he left, but I could feel him in these words, almost like he was sitting beside me.

He started the letters with him saying that he has tried to persuade the king to help the village but he realized that the kingdom has fallen into a corruption as the king had completely ignored the village. Next, he told that he has regrouped with his old adventurer party, with reliable people and now will be heading toward Myttas, a kingdom at far West.

Ignoring the desire to meet dad’s old friends, I continued reading. He told me that mom and Clara is still nowhere to be found and he will be counting on me to help him as he instructed me to go other directions and find her.

The letter ended simply, but each word lingered, the weight of it settling over me like a second skin. He hadn’t abandoned us; he’d been searching, just like I would’ve done. For the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope—and relief that he was out there, trying as hard as I had been.

Sliding the coins back into the envelope, I clutched the letter, feeling its warmth even though it was just paper. It felt like a piece of him was here, guiding me. I couldn’t linger in this place forever, not when he’d gone so far for us. I had to keep going.

I pulled out the map we’d been using to navigate, unrolling it on the table as Sylas, Mira, Kael, and Kaldor gathered around.

“So… where do we head next?” Mira asked, peering over my shoulder at the map laid across the table.

I traced my finger over the rough parchment, stopping at a small marked dot in the mid-north—where we were now. My gaze, however, drifted further south, past rolling hills and scattered cities, to the central continent.

Degaritas.

I had been thinking about it ever since we arrived in Redmount.

The city housed the adventurer guild headquarters, the biggest one on the continent. If any place had information, it would be there. Maybe they’d know more about where he might’ve gone or where I should start.

But was that really our best option?

Kael folded his arms, frowning thoughtfully. “But that’s a long way southeast. We could pass through other places, maybe get some answers before hitting Degaritas.”

Kaldor scratched his head. “He’s got a point, Duke. Degaritas is a hub, sure, but there’s a lot between here and there.”

Mira hummed in agreement. “Why not make a stop somewhere first? We might find something useful on the way.”

She had a point. We didn’t have to go straight there.

I looked at the map again, considering the possibilities.

Velkren lay to the southwest—an old fortress city. The scholars there were renowned historians. Maybe they had archives on adventurers and their past exploits.

Silvermere, a bustling trade hub by the eastern coast, had a thriving network of informants. Coin could buy rumors, and rumors could lead to answers.

Calveris, a city ruled by mercenaries, was filled with hardened warriors. If anyone had crossed paths with my father, it would be them.

I hesitated, torn between choices.

Kael tapped the map near Velkren. “A fortress city like this probably has records on famous adventurers. Could be a good place to check first.”

Mira nodded. “Silvermere’s a trade city. You know how merchants are—they hear everything. We could bribe someone for information.”

Kaldor crossed his arms. “Calveris is dangerous, but if your father was well-known, someone there might’ve heard of him.”

They were all good choices.

I exhaled, my fingers hovering over the map.

Then, Sylas spoke.

Her voice was calm, but firm. “No.”

I looked up at her.

“If Degaritas is where we’ll find the strongest resources, we should go there first. The guild would have better information on your father’s movements.”

I hesitated. Was she right?

Velkren, Silvermere, and Calveris all had potential leads, but none of them had the guaranteed resources and structured records that the guild headquarters did.

My fingers finally stopped over Degaritas.

It felt like the right path.

I took a deep breath before looking up at them.

“Alright, we go southeast to Degaritas.” I met each of their gazes, seeing the same determination in their eyes. “We’ve got a long way to go, but I think… I think that’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Kael smirked. “Guess we better prepare for another long journey.”

Mira sighed, dramatically stretching her arms. “And here I thought we’d be staying in town a bit longer.”

Kaldor chuckled. “No adventure ever stops for too long.”

Sylas simply nodded, a small but knowing smile on her face.

I traced the route one last time.

It was an ambitious journey.

But we had come this far.

And the thought of moving forward—of finding the truth—filled me with purpose.