The sun rose over Greenhollow, spilling light over the rooftops and warming the earth. Harris stood in his garden, his hands buried in the soil, coaxing new life from the ground. The garden was thriving—vibrant with blooms and lush greens, the rows straight and well-tended. The scent of fresh earth mixed with the delicate fragrance of blossoms, filling the air. It felt like a small victory. Each flower, each stubborn weed pulled, felt like a step away from the darkness of his past.

He wiped his brow, feeling the rough texture of soil on his skin, and glanced up just as Martha appeared at the gate, her face bright with a smile. She waved, her wicker basket swaying on her arm.

“Morning, Harris! Thought I’d come check on our hero gardener. Heard you were slacking off lately.”

Harris raised an eyebrow, leaning on his spade. “Hero gardener? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Martha shrugged, her smile widening. “That’s what the villagers are calling you. Seems you’ve won them over, despite your best efforts to be antisocial.”

Harris sighed theatrically. “I’ll have to try harder, then.”

She chuckled, stepping into the garden and inspecting the neat rows of plants. “You know, for someone who used to be so mysterious and brooding, you’ve become quite domestic. What’s next? Knitting?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve always been a fan of routine,” Harris replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Besides, the garden doesn’t talk back. Unlike some people.”

“Oh, I see,” Martha said, feigning a look of hurt. She tapped his shoulder lightly with her basket. “I’ll let you get back to your precious plants, then. Just remember—there’s a community dinner tonight at the meeting hall. You promised you’d come.”

Harris groaned. “Did I? That doesn’t sound like me.”

“You did,” Martha said with a grin. “And don’t even think about sneaking off to hide in your garden. Liam will drag you out if he has to.”

Harris shook his head but couldn’t suppress the small smile forming. “Fine, fine. I’ll be there. Just don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Martha said, giving him a knowing wink before turning and heading back down the path.

Harris watched her go, a warmth settling in his chest. The village had become something more than just a hiding place—it had become a home, despite his best efforts to keep everyone at arm’s length. He turned back to his garden, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Maybe Martha was right—maybe he had changed.

The crunch of footsteps on the path made him look up, and he saw Liam approaching, a broad smile on his face.

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“Morning, Harris. Thought I’d find you here.”

“Where else would I be?” Harris asked, dusting off his hands. “You’re not here to drag me to that dinner already, are you?”

Liam laughed. “No, not yet. I just wanted to see how you were doing. It’s been… quiet, hasn’t it?”

Harris nodded, glancing toward the edge of the forest. The darkness that had loomed there was gone now, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. He could still remember the oppressive chill of the corruption, the way it seemed to seep into his bones. Now, the warmth of the sun on his skin felt like a blessing.

“Quiet is good. I think we could all use some quiet after everything.”

Liam stepped closer, his gaze following Harris’s. “You know, people have been talking. They think you’re some kind of guardian now—like a protector of Greenhollow. It’s funny, considering how much you hated this place at first.”

“I didn’t hate it,” Harris corrected, though he knew Liam had a point. He could still recall those first days—how he’d seen the village as nothing more than a convenient hiding spot, a place to keep his head down. “I just didn’t… fit in.”

“Well, you do now,” Liam said. “You’ve done more for this village than anyone could’ve asked. I’m proud to call you a friend.”

Harris blinked, a bit taken aback by the sincerity in Liam’s voice. He looked away, feeling a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, disbelief, maybe even hope.

“You’re getting sentimental on me, Liam. It’s too early in the day for that.”

Liam grinned. “Just speaking the truth. Anyway, Martha said to remind you about tonight. I figured I’d better back her up—you have a habit of disappearing when people want you to socialize.”

“I’ll be there,” Harris said, rolling his eyes. “If only to keep the two of you from hunting me down.”

“Good,” Liam said, giving Harris a pat on the shoulder. “And hey… thanks, Harris. For everything.”

Harris watched as Liam walked away, his heart feeling strangely light. He turned back to his garden, kneeling to pull another weed. The feel of the earth between his fingers grounded him, the cool soil contrasting with the warmth of the sun. This life—this simple, quiet life—wasn’t something he’d ever imagined for himself. And yet, here he was, tending to a garden, preparing to go to a community dinner, feeling… content.

He smiled to himself, shaking his head. “Harris the gardener,” he muttered. “Who’d have thought?”

As the sun climbed higher, Harris continued his work, his thoughts drifting. He knew his past would always be there, lingering in the shadows. The temptation, the power—it would never fully leave him. He remembered the pull of the dark magic, the way it had whispered promises of control and strength. It had been intoxicating, and part of him knew that allure would never vanish entirely. But here, in Greenhollow, he had something worth protecting. Something that made the darkness easier to resist.

He heard the distant laughter of children playing in the village, the clatter of carts on the cobblestones, the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees. It was peaceful, and for now, that was enough.

Harris looked up, his gaze drifting to the horizon, where the forest met the sky. There would always be dangers out there—always something lurking beyond the edge of the village. But he wasn’t alone anymore. He had Liam, Martha, and the villagers of Greenhollow. Together, they would face whatever came their way.

With a sigh, he stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. The roughness of the soil clung to his skin, a reminder of the work still to be done.

“Alright, garden. Let’s get you looking perfect. Can’t have Martha thinking I’ve gone soft.”

He smiled, a real, genuine smile, as he went back to his work. Peace had returned to Greenhollow, and for the first time in a long time, Harris allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could find a place here.

And that was enough.