At a brief glance around, time had seemingly not touched my room, but there was plenty of difference once my gaze had tempered and shrugged off the remnants of my time asleep.

The green and gold decorations of House Velbrun had all but disappeared, the colors of my wife's family having been overcast by a deep blue and sturdy brown. And emblazoned upon all I could see was the triangle made of bound rope, knots at each angle.

The symbol of House Tribus. A distant memory in all I had endured.

"Are the curtains new?" A banal observation, but one that would hopefully keep my attendant from driving herself mad as she was currently trying to do.

Macy paced back and forth, as she had for the last several minutes, biting her lip, "What do I even do, who do I get first-what? The, uh, the curtains? The curtains. Yes, uh, the curtains are new."

She stopped, focusing on the curtains as I had, before she gave a sharp little whistle. I watched the curtains draw themselves across the rails, dimming the room.

"They open and close at a whistle," Macy explained. "Neat, huh?"

I nodded, waiting as she finally seemed to collect herself after a time. Every muscle in my body was burning to move, to be used after so long, but it would do me no good to rush and hurt myself.

"Dalton," Macy finally said, a certainty. "I need to go get Dalton, even if the Donn of Neve has arrived already, he'd kill me and then fire me if he wasn't the first to know his dad woke up."

"I think getting Dalton is a fine idea," I agreed, a touch of impatience in my tone. Any amusement at Macy's fear at being fired was waylaid by how very real it felt.

Macy nodded, gulping, before she headed for the door, before she stopped and looked back. "Do you, well, want anything, Lord Tribus?"

"My son," I said as politely as I could to the frazzled girl. "And my daughters."

The pained look that flickered on Macy's face didn't inspire a particularly good feeling in my gut, but she nodded nervously, "I'll, uh, go get Dalton."

And so I was left alone to truly begin to feel the weight of my body and the lack of use heavy in my limbs, the lack of sensation in my right arm. No, it wasn't quite lacking, but rather a distinct void in the shape of my arm.

As if my Vitae still flowed from the stump of my arm into the shape of what I had lost below my elbow.

And as it flowed, I could feel my Vitae was stirring only slightly slower than my mind. As if a storm was beginning to brew under my skin, but just as I could feel my age in my joints, I could feel it in my Vitae. Not as bright as it once was, tainted by time and the scars of those I had fought.

Zactrik and his horrid Mortum. What kind of horrors had plagued the world while I was gone? What tragedy had visited my children in my absence?

My dwelling on the enormity of my duty as a father was paused for a moment as I felt a faint burning creep across the back of my left hand. Pulling my sole remaining arm out from underneath the heavy blankets was more herculean than I would have liked it to have been.

Soon, my arm was in the air above me, and I could feel the slight strain of atrophied muscle, but my attention was held taut by the new sight before me.

"And what are you?" I asked.

There, engraved upon the skin on the back of my hand, was the symbol of House Tribus in black. Each knot tied at the ends of each angle, but I could feel a power within the art.

Something that did not feel like Mana or Vitae. Something that had not been noticed and felt like it never would be noticed by another person.

"The Overseer…" I said, feeling a power to even utter the title of that which had bestowed this upon me. A gentle reminder from beyond Derra and the gods I knew that the knowledge I held was sacred.

There was so much to consider, but my thoughts pulled back from the world with every second that closed the distance between myself and my son.

"Hurry, Macy," I begged to the ceiling. "I want to see my son."

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After some time, I was tired of begging. I was also tired of lying down. My body, stiff as it was, was still my own to command and I was no longer willing to say no.

I began to flow my Vitae through my body, swirling as I'd done so many times before, but took care to ease its way into my joints, before beginning to twist my body and sit up for the first time in 8 years.

"Adoabi would be laughing at me right now," I shook my head. "Struggling with something as simple as getting out of bed."

Letting my Vitae relax as I sat on the edge of my bed now, I craned my neck around to see more of how my room had changed in so many years, before I paused at the portraits on the wall.

My family through the years, some I recognized, commissioned pieces to be cherished for ages, but others that I didn't I wasn't familiar with. I saw my children age through the portraits on the wall and I felt a deep well of grief hit me as I realized how alone each of them had been.

Dalton became a fine young man as he tread towards adulthood, each of his portraits looking more formal and official than the last, the sharpness of his gaze never dulling.

And Natakia, although her portraits were fewer, looked to have grown ever more beautiful. The oldest one looked as if she had been born to pose, her green and gold dress…

"Why is she wearing…?" I almost finished my thought before my gaze settled on the only portrait of Daka in the room, "Why is there only one…?"

Perhaps it was the skill of the artist, but I took a step back at the sight of Daka's visage, flinching at what I saw in her painted gaze. A deep sadness and anger, her body tense as if she had been leashed down for the painting.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

A sense of wrongness clashed with the swelling of love I felt at the sight of my children, even as portraits, but as I my gaze went up to the largest portrait on the wall, my resolve hardened.

A portrait commissioned in the week of my childrens' 10th birthday, all those years ago, of all of us together, all of them sitting down on my lap, surrounded by the forests of Gelvurt.

"I'll find you all," I said. "No matter what dark paths you tread, no matter what kind of monster you believe yourself to be, I'll find you."

I felt my hand burning for a moment and I glanced down to watch the emblem of House Tribus on the back of my hand glimmer with a fluorescent energy.

And then the door to my room clicked open.

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A portrait had not done my son the justice that I felt he had deserved. He stood in the doorway with purpose, as if with every movement he carried a mission to fulfill.

His eyes stared into mine, before they broke off their gaze and scanned me up and down, as if trying to ascertain the legitimacy of my person. Perhaps I wasn't the only one who had dealt with waking nightmares.

"Father," Dalton said, as if greeting me after a long trip. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, an utilitarian knot that kept it out of his professional gaze. A long robe of blue and brown around him, the fineries of a noble expertly tailored to his form.

With a grunt of exertion, I stood up, stumbling forward as I felt my Vitae surge to enhance my weakened muscles enough to do just that.

"Father!" Dalton took a step forward and I felt my strength surge as I heard the worry and uncertainty shake at the edges of his words.

I straightened my posture and found my balance, before I turned to look my son in the eyes straight on and began walking forward even as my body argued with me.

I would broker no rebellion from the physical in the face of what needed to be done.

My son met me halfway, coming up to me with a thousand thoughts in his stare, and I wrapped my arms around him with all of the might I had scrounged up at the sight of one of my children in the flesh.

"Dalton," I said, feeling his arms slowly wrap around me. "I love you, son. I'm sorry I was gone for so long."

The silence at my statement was warm and stretched on and on, even as my strength began to waver. My little boy had grown up to be a man that came up to near my own height, a man that had endured so many burdens in my absence.

"This is so sweet," Macy sniffled, rubbing her eyes. I'd barely noticed her enter the room behind my son.

Dalton sighed at her words and as if the magical spell on the moment had been broken, my strength left me and I fell back onto the bed, my son aiding my descent.

"Oh, uh, sorry," the maid said, before she backed out of the room, "I'll, uh, go dust…something."

My son kept his eyes closed as the door shut, before he sat down beside me, opening his eyes. They glimmered, an unshed wetness in his stare as he watched me in silence.

"Father, I…I love you too," Dalton said, his voice wavering. "I was never sure you'd come back and I'd…I thought I…"

No matter how old he got, no matter how different he was, I knew the meaning behind my son's unsaid words. It was hard carrying words for those you weren't sure you'd ever get to speak them to.

I put a hand on his shoulder, "I know, Dalton. I always knew."

Dalton's posture went slack, as if a great weight had been lifted off of him, but that moment of relief was seemingly too much for him as he regathered himself.

"Now that you're awake, there's much to discuss," Dalton said. "A lot has happened since your battle with Zactrik."

"I'm sure the world's changed a lot." I nodded. "First, where are Natakia and Daka?"

"Daka ran away 5 years ago to the Ruskan border," Dalton said, his expression and voice betraying nothing. "And then 3 years later, Natakia forswore her ties to House Tribus and has since become a member of House Velbrun."

The swift and clinical explanation saved time, but left me little room to breathe as the revelations were dropped in my lap. I nodded, swallowing at the idea of my child being in a place so dangerous.

And for Daka to be somewhere in Rusk bode only a slight bit better.

"And so, you've taken up the role of High Lord Tribus, then?" It was always a role more suited for Dalton than it would have been for my eldest. Daka wasn't meant for that kind of lifestyle.

Dalton nodded, not even seeming proud of his courage in stepping up to such a task at such a young age, before something seemed to shake him, his gaze becoming wary, "I am still capable of acting as High Lord Tribus as you recover, Father."

For a moment, I was confused, before I let out a gentle sigh. It seemed my son was worried that I would take away all that he had worked on in my absence.

"Dalton," I tightened my grip on his shoulder. "Let's leave such matters for later. Perhaps I could get something to eat? You can tell me more over something warm."

"I'll have Macy bring something in," Dalton nodded, not looking completely mollified at his business being put to the side. There were so many more important things to talk about than who was in charge, however. "Give me a moment."

He stood and my grip slackened as he walked over to the door, before a thought occurred to me. Something I'd heard as I slowly came to my senses.

"Dalton," I said, my son pausing at the door. "Did I hear Macy correctly about a Donn of Neve visiting? Coming here to Gelvurt?"

For the first time, I saw satisfaction sharpen the features of my son as he looked back over his shoulders at me, "I have so much to tell you, Father. Gelvurt is getting a bank."

And with that, he walked out. The distant sounds of his orders to Macy falling to the wayside at the enormity of my son's words.