Zander lingered outside the doorway, listening to Alfread retelling their adventure. Alfread was in full storyteller mode, his voice rich with suspense and drama. “The arrow flew,” Alfread mimicked the flight with his arm, adding a whooshing sound. “One wolf fell, but its brother charged, teeth gnashing!” Alfread growled and gnashed his teeth, his voice deepening. He mimed shooting another arrow and spun in a half-circle. “BAM!” he slapped his hands together. “The fiend went crashing. The broadhead found his eye, and at once,” Alfread held up a single finger, “monster did die.”

Alfread took a swig of wine, continuing with flair. “Snapping ferociously, his final brother shot toward me. Time was my enemy; wolf’s malicious maw prevented my draw. I gripped bow in both hands,” Alfread mimicked the struggle, gripping an imaginary bow, “rolling aside of wolf’s evil plans. The wolf missed me, narrow. I nocked my final arrow, and—” He released a pretend arrow with a quick whoosh. “Shot him right in the heart.” Alfread lowered his voice, “Slowly, did he depart. He slunk to the ground, emitting pitiful howl. I pulled my sword, and approached the beast so foul,” Alfread slashed through the air. “And slit his murdering throat. Thus, was the last beast of the Wolves’ Den smote.”

A slow clap echoed through the room. Startled, Alfread and his audience turned to find Zander standing in the entryway, smiling.

Alfread grinned, raising his flagon. His hair was damp from a recent bath, and he wore his evening robe. Sir Evan beamed proudly at his son, envisioning Alfread as both a warrior and a storyteller. Mirielda’s eyes shone with pride, her smile warm and tender.

“Welcome home, Zander,” Mirielda greeted, her voice as soft as it was the day she took him in.

Zander’s heart ached, knowing this might be the last time he’d see those kind amber eyes or rest beneath this roof. Mirielda had never tried to replace his mother, but she’d given him all the love a mother could. How had he been so blind, longing for what he didn’t have, when what he’d been given was more than enough? A part of him wanted to flee now, avoid the pain of farewell—but he must finish strong.

His gaze shifted to the others. Little Marigold sat nearby, smiling at everything around her. Her bruises were already fading thanks to Mirielda’s care. She wore a dress far too big for her, pinned to keep it from slipping.

Melissa, too, looked transformed. Her hair was brushed, her green eyes bright above the satin gown she now wore. She was far more beautiful than Zander remembered. He winked at her, and Melissa quickly dropped her gaze, blushing into her flagon.

“It warms my soul to see you both here,” Zander said, glancing at Evan and Mirielda to gauge their reactions.

Sir Evan leaned forward, clasping his hands. “You did well sending them here,” he said, his eyes shifting between Zander and Alfread. “You’re not boys anymore. Men,” he pounded his fist on the table, “you have become! You’ve found honest hearts to fill the voids you will soon leave behind.”

“It’s true,” Mirielda agreed, her smile gentle as she looked at the girls. “Marigold has the makings of a master medican.”

Marigold blushed at the praise, her face lighting up. Zander could already see her future blooming under Mirielda’s nurturing care.

“And Melissa’s a far better cook than any of us,” Evan added. He grinned at his wife. “Far better than certain characters around this table.”

Melissa beamed at the compliment, her joy palpable. Zander’s heart swelled with pride—he’d done something wholly good, something that would change lives for the better.

“Now some characters can focus on tenderizing meat instead of undercooking it,” Mirielda teased, a grin pointed back at her husband.

“Ha!” Evan roared with laughter, while Zander and Mirielda chuckled. Alfread, as usual, tried to ignore the innuendo. Sir Evan, of course, made that difficult. “In love’s embrace, nuzzled face to face, bound in your splendor, precious meat rendered tender. Just a little pink. Next day, no stink.”

Zander, Mirielda, and Evan laughed heartily, while the girls seemed to miss the not-so-subtle subtext. Alfread turned to the girls. “I can find you some place where you would never have to endure this base humor.”

Melissa shook her head, grinning. “I like it here.”

Alfread sighed. Sir Evan slapped his back, trying to get him to perk up. But it was Marigold’s small voice that surprised them all. “Careful, Sir, ye don’t wanna tenderize Alfread.”

Laughter exploded from the group, Zander wiping a tear from his eye. It was a family memory Zander would bring with him and remember long after this night.

“Lady Mirielda is taking us to the Skirts tomorrow!” Marigold announced, her face glowing with restored innocence. Zander clutched his locket, knowing his mother would be proud.

“You ladies need proper attire,” Mirielda said with a smile.

“You’re enjoying some female companionship, aren’t you, mother?” Alfread teased.

“It’s nice to have women to talk to,” Mirielda admitted. “I’ve been surrounded by men for far too long.”

Zander expected a jape to escape Evan’s mouth, a commentary on how joyous it would be to once more have people to discuss the highs and lows of menses with. Instead, Evan grew serious. “My life has given me much to be grateful for. A wonderful wife who sacrificed a life of wealth for me, a son who surpasses me, and another who has been a son in all but blood.”

Zander nodded, tears coalescing as he reflected on how this man taught him what it meant to be a man. True strength wasn’t about fighting, but caring deeply for those you loved. It wasn’t about dominance, but about lifting others up. It wasn’t to turn away tasks as “feminine,” but to share the load with others. Nor was masculinity hiding your heart within armor, but to give it to those you loved as often as you could. Evan’s lessons had shaped Zander’s character like a sculptor chiseling stone, molding him into the man he had become. Evan of Astoria was a far manlier man than his own father, the supposed “great warrior,” who’d left him and his mother in Mirrevar.

Evan’s gaze shifted to the girls. “For all that I’ve been given, Miri and I always wanted daughters too. If you’ll have us, you can be Leverith’s second chance at that dream and Yadeen’s next chapter in our lives. No one replace the chapters we’ve all lost, but I intend to make the best story with the lines dealt to me.”

Melissa and Marigold exchanged a teary look. Melissa spoke first, her voice thick with emotion. “This feels like a dream to me. I still expect to wake up back in Willet.”

Marigold nodded, tears running down her little cheeks. “I want to be part of your story, Sir,” she sobbed, looking at Mirielda, “and yours too. I want to. More than anything.”

“Darling,” Mirielda said softly, placing a hand on Marigold’s back. The girl flinched, then melted into the embrace. “Marigold, you are safe. You are family.”

Zander watched through the eyes of his younger self—the boy without a mother who had once needed those same words. The wave of emotion washed over him. For so long, he had looked forward to leaving the farm, counting the days. Now, with the end in sight, he found himself wanting to stay, savoring these final moments. He wished for one more Telling by the hearth, listening to stories and sharing a meal. He yearned to taste Mirielda’s overcooked food and listen to Sir Evan’s kindly japes. He longed to bicker and laugh with Alfread as they worked the fields, best friends and brothers wrapped in one. He would miss the safety of knowing that Mirielda would take care of him and that she would tuck him into bed with a kiss on the forehead. He would miss Sir Evan’s reprimands when he broke a piece of farming equipment and his quick forgiveness. He would miss days spent hunting with Alfread, working together to provide food for their family—for Evan to undercook.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

As the last page of this chapter turned, he realized how much he’d miss it all, and how he’d spent so many years looking forward that he never saw how blessed he was.

Like the man Evan had taught him to be, Zander raised his flagon to propose a toast.

“I want to thank you,” Zander said. “All of you deserve to be celebrated. Sir Evan, Lady Mirielda,” he paused, locking eyes with them, “you took me in when I had nowhere else. I wouldn’t be half the man I am without you.”

Mirielda clutched her dress, tears brimming, while Sir Evan managed a bittersweet smile.

“Evan, you taught me a knight is more than just a warrior—he is kind, compassionate. You showed me a great man doesn’t just dream; he lives those dreams. And Mirielda,” Zander’s voice cracked, but he pressed on, “you made me feel safe. You made me feel like family.”

Zander let the tears come, unashamed. “You were better parents to me than my own father. You were always there, when my mother couldn’t be. I love you.”

Mirielda dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief while Sir Evan allowed his tears to flow freely.

“Melissa, Marigold,” Zander turned to the two sisters. “You’ve shown me that I can be a true knight. Your smiles fill me with hope, hope that I can bring the light of Leverith into this world. You are good people, and I wish for Leverith to bring you the peace and love you’ve always deserved.” His gaze lingered on Marigold. “You do deserve to be loved,” he said softly, before glancing at Melissa, who returned his look with a shy, sideways glance.

Finally, he turned to Alfread. “You, Alfread… more than anyone else, have filled my life with joy. You’ve been my best friend, my brother. I love you.”

Alfread tossed his arm around Zander’s back. “I love you too, brother.”

Zander clung to his brother, unwilling to let go. When he finally pulled back, he felt a heavy knot in his chest.

“But,” Zander said, voice faltering as he faced them all, “Sir Evan is right. Tomorrow morning, I leave for Urzport. I will pledge myself to Archlord Bearbreaker and join the Peacewatch.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Sir Evan bowed his head, filled with pride, while Mirielda, Melissa, and Marigold wore their sadness openly. Alfread stood in shocked disbelief, mouth opening as if to speak, but for once, no words came.

Zander swallowed hard, then raised his flagon once more. “A toast,” he said, “to something I thought I’d lost but was here all along—family.”

They clinked their vessels together in quiet solidarity. “To family,” they echoed, and Zander downed his drink, memorizing their faces, committing this moment to memory.

As he refilled his flagon, Sir Evan broke the somber silence. “Zander, I never doubted the decision to take you in. You’ll do great things. Remember,” he said, with a nod to Alfread, “it’s better to live one story than to tell a thousand.”

Mirielda’s voice trembled. “I will miss you, dear. No matter where life takes you, you will always have a home here.”

Alfread slammed his fist on the table. “If you’re going to Urzport, I’m coming with you.”

Zander hesitated, torn between wanting to bring his brother with him and knowing what was best for Alfread. “Alfread, I—”

“No,” Alfread interrupted. “I can fight too.”

“You can fight,” Zander agreed, “but that’s not your path. You’re meant for something greater. Go to the University. Your mind is too good to waste in the disputed territories with me.”

“I don’t want to go to the University!” Alfread shouted, shaking with anger, tears spilling down a beautiful face inherited through generations of highborn breeding. “I’m not going to waste my life trying to prove to a bunch of lordlings that I belong in a world that thinks I’m a mistake!”

“You’re not a mistake,” Mirielda said. “You are the greatest gift I’ve ever been given, and bonding your father was my greatest choice.”

Her words softened Alfread’s anger, but the sorrow in his eyes remained. “I refuse to go crawling back to the people who threw you away.”

Mirielda caressed his cheek, wiping his tears. “I broke their hearts the day I spurned a prince for a man with no last name. Take a better road than them; choose to be understanding rather than to judge and banish. You could prove them wrong, not with vindictive spite, but by being yourself, by showing them you were not a mistake.”

Alfread shook his head. “I don’t want to go.”

Zander looked to Evan. The usually verbose man remained silent as his son wavered on the most important decision of his life. Melissa and Marigold dismissed themselves, retreating to the loft as Mirielda held her crying son.

“You were born for the University,” Zander said. “A memory like yours—”

“I get to choose what I was born for!” Alfread roared, pushing back his chair, he rose to his feet. “And it was not to make nice with people who wish I was never born!”

He stormed from the common room, slamming the door to his bedchamber.

“I’m sorry,” Zander said, hoping this wasn’t the last memory he’d have of his family.

“Miri and I no longer hold the quill,” Evan said. “Alfread will author his own story.”

Mirielda glared at her husband. “Alfread is meant for peace, not war.”

“I agree,” Evan said. “But we must let him find his way there on his own terms. If we try to author his destiny, he will never become who he is meant to be.”

“No,” Mirielda said, choking back tears. “He might become a corpse on some field or some wall, tossed into a pile with the rest, and burnt until our beloved boy is naught but ash.”

Evan put his head in his hands, sighing. “This can wait until the morning.” He staggered to his feet and limped to Zander, crushing him in a hearty embrace. “Live your story, son.”

Zander squeezed him back. “Thanks for all you’ve given me. I’ll carry your lessons with me wherever I go.”

“Good,” Evan said. “And bring new lessons home with you when you visit.”

“I will,” Zander said, croaking through the thickness of his sorrow.

“I love you too, buddy. Until next time.”

“Until next time.”

Evan pulled apart, gazed at Zander as if to imprint the image of him in his mind, then retreated to his bedchamber with a nod.

Zander and Mirielda stood, trembling, gazing at each other through the tears. So many times, it had been just the two of them. Alfread and Evan would travel to Urzport, and he’d volunteer to stay home, stealing moments like this one to be with the person who made him feel most secure. Now he was going to Urzport, and he might never have a moment like this again. He broke into sobs. Much like they had seven years ago, her arms cradled him.

“Tonight feels like a final sunset,” Mirielda whispered, rocking him. “And it hurts, but the Sunrise awaits you, Zander.” Mirielda leaned back and gazed deeply into his eyes. “Your mother would be as proud of you as I am. Always follow your heart and you will eclipse all of our dreams, child of love.”

Zander clenched the locket, gripping it with all his might. Through Mirielda, he could feel his mother’s pride. “I will do my best.”

Mirielda smiled. “Until next time, Zander.”

“Until next time.”

He cried all the way to his bed in the loft, where he found Melissa waiting for him beneath his sheets, her robe on the floor. Marigold slept on an assortment of blankets atop an old mattress, not too far away. Zander wasn’t in the mood for this now and wished she’d just go to her bed.

“May I lay with you for a few turns?” Melissa asked, her voice sweet.

Zander exhaled, that old empty feeling inside of him craving momentary relief. Perhaps, he pondered, Melissa was the Sunrise. Her dandelion hair, her beautiful smile that lit him up, the way she made him feel like a hero. Perhaps, after nearly five years of tribute—of bedding hundreds of women thousands of times—Leverith answered his prayers.

Feeling as uncertain as he ever had before, he slipped off his clothes.

“Ye really are Leverith-blessed, aren’t ye?” she said, her eyes not on his moon-blue seers.

Zander nestled into bed with her, taking pride in the compliment he'd heard a thousand times before. He cupped her face in his hands. “I think she blessed you more,” he said.

Moonlight shined through the loft window, illuminating her precious smile. Leverith! It felt good to borrow her warmth. He sensually kissed her neck, smelling the aroma of Mirielda’s perfume. It wasn’t long until he carried her out into the night, where they made love beneath a brilliant blue moon and a sea of stars.

Zander woke before dawn crept over the horizon. With a heavy heart, he looked at her smiling in her sleep, pondering his options. A part of him wanted to climb back in bed and stay there until the day began. He wouldn't have to leave his family. He could take Melissa as his wife and serve his conscription when he turned eighteen in a few moons. Perhaps Melissa could come and work at the war camp and they could be together. He’d earn his knighthood and claim lands in Bear’s Crossing. When his three years were up, he’d return to a home and a family that loved him. He and Melissa could raise a family of their own and take in orphans as their wards. It would be a good, meaningful life.

But it was not the life Zander was fated to live. Crying, he gripped his locket, opened it up, and gazed at the perfect sapphire inside of it. He remembered the promise he made his mom as she lay dying. He got dressed and quietly left behind the place that had been his home for the past seven years.

The sun would rise soon.