After what felt like a lifetime, Areion sat beneath the familiar old tree, legs folded, posture upright, a picture of serene focus. His long, wavy blond hair shimmered in the golden afternoon light. The world around him seemed to hold its breath as he exhaled slowly, Slowly synchronizing his sense with overflowing paranh outside his body with his own.
A single leaf detached from the towering tree above, twirling lazily toward the ground. Without so much as shifting his expression, without moving a finger, Areion sliced the falling leaf cleanly into two with an invisible force — a whisper of his will alone. The two halves drifted apart as if cleaved by an unseen blade, yet the air remained undisturbed, his concentration unbroken. As those leaflets fall on opposite sides of arieon without even touching his body.
"Very good," came a voice, sudden and soft, like a breeze whispering through the branches.
Startled, Areion recoiled slightly, snapping his crimson eyes open. Standing just a few centimeters away was Ādima, appearing as silently as a ghost. He hadn't sensed her approach — not even a flicker of presence.
"Wow, what a big deal, oldy!" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "Can't you just… walk up like a normal person?"
Ādima smirked, then smacked him lightly on the head. "Manners," she said, the single word loaded him with years of lessons.
Areion huffed, pushing aside his hair. "Fine, fine," he said dramatically. Then, with a mischievous grin, he raised his hand toward her. "At least give me a hand up, Granny."
Ādima's expression shifted — her sharp silver gaze growing colder. "Get up on your own," she said curtly, turning her back on him.
He groaned In exaggerated annoyance, rising to his feet with a stretch. "So," he muttered, brushing dust from his tunic, "did you come all the way here just to bully me?"
"Bully? No," Ādima replied, already heading toward the garden gate. Her voice softened, almost imperceptibly. "I came to say… happy birthday."
For a moment, Areion just blinked, stunned. His face softened, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.
"Aww… Thank you, Granny," he said warmly, chasing after her like a little boy.
She stopped, waiting. "Come here."
He frowned slightly but obeyed, stepping closer until he stood before her, now tall enough that his eyes nearly met hers.
Without a word, Ādima produced a wooden box, richly carved with Suryasthirh symbols glowing faintly gold. She handed it to him with surprising gentleness.
"What's this, Granny?" he asked, curiosity lighting his face.
"Open it," she said simply.
Areion carefully lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a deep blue velvet cushion, lay a golden bracelet, ancient yet breathtakingly beautiful. Intricate Shakti symbols swirled across its surface, glowing subtly with an inner light.
He looked up at her, bewildered. "G… Granny… What's this?"
Without answering, Ādima plucked the bracelet from its cushion, tossing the box aside. The wooden container dissolved into golden dust the moment it touched the ground. Then, taking his hand firmly, she slid the bracelet onto his forearm until it fit snugly, almost as if it were made for him alone.
[It's beautiful], he thought, tracing the carvings with reverent fingers. [Almost… mesmerizing. And it fits perfectly.]
"How is it?" Ādima asked, her tone neutral but her eyes watching keenly.
Snapped from his thoughts, Areion glanced up. "Ah—what?"
She smirked faintly. "I said, how's the gift?"
He gave a small, heartfelt smile. "It's… beautiful," he said sincerely.
Satisfied, Ādima nodded once, her expression unreadable once more. She turned without further comment and began walking toward the gate.
"And…" she called over her shoulder, "Ojaswini came. Like she does every year. You should come home and see her."
Later, after a quiet journey back through the familiar woods and narrow trails, Areion stood at the threshold of the ancestral home. The stone walls were still weathered but proud, the gardens still wild yet lovingly kept.
"It's the same," he said aloud, almost in disbelief. "Nothing's changed."
"Mhmm," Ādima replied dryly. "What, you thought the world would flip upside down without you? It's been like this for centuries."
[I spoke too soon], he thought grimly.
Just then, the heavy oak door creaked open. Ojaswini swept into view, radiant in a flowing gown of golden brown silk, her hair cascading down her back like a river. Without hesitation, she rushed toward him, gathering him into a fierce embrace, pulling his head against her chest.
"Areion… my baby," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.
"Maa," he murmured back, his arms wrapping around her tightly. He closed his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart.
"You've grown so much," she said, Vivienne, standing nearby with misty eyes, joined the embrace, resting her hand gently on Areion's back.
"Oh, Ma," he said with a choked laugh, "Where have you been? I missed you so much."
"And Mama missed you too, my dear," Vivienne said warmly, kissing the crown of his head.
"Not to interrupt your little sob-fest," Ādima said dryly from the doorway, arms crossed, "but could we maybe move inside?"
Ojaswini chuckled, wiping her eyes quickly. "Of course, Ma."
She led them inside, the house welcoming him with scents of fresh fruits, herbs, and aged wood. They settled in the sun-dappled living room, the walls lined with relics of generations past.
Vivienne's keen eyes caught the glint of the bracelet on Areion's arm. "What's that, Arya?"
He glanced down. "Oh, this?" He lifted his arm. "Grandma gave it to me."
"Really?" Vivienne teased, raising an eyebrow at Ādima. "You've been unusually sweet lately."
Ādima said nothing, merely looking out the window with practiced indifference.
Raatindra soon joined them, arms laden with sweetmeats and laughter, and for hours they simply talked — about Areion's training, news from distant Sangrael, old memories, half-forgotten songs. The house rang with voices and life.
[I crave these times, Areion thought, I want to repeat them over and over again. Family bonding… Even if Maa and Granny don't always get along, they're here now, speaking like everything's normal. Is it because of me? Maybe… Maybe not. But I want everything to stay like this. Peaceful.]
[Time… It tears people apart sometimes. Miscommunication, fights, politics… or simply the slow drift of years. Sometimes you don't even realize you've grown distant until it's too late.]
He was pulled from his reverie by Ojaswini's bright voice.
"So what I was saying… Arya, baby, are you coming back with me?"
He looked around — Vivienne and Raatindra exchanged knowing glances. Ādima remained silent.
"I… I miss Dad and my brothers too," Areion said hesitantly.
"And your daddy misses you, believe me," Ojaswini said with a chuckle, brushing his shoulder fondly. "He'll be soaring on cloud nine when he sees you all grown up."
Tears welled in Areion's eyes, but he blinked them away quickly. "I want to see them too. How does Brother Lucian look now? You always said he misses me the most."
"He does," Vivienne said softly. "He writes to you in his journal every day, even though you're not there to read it."
"And Caius?" Areion asked. "How's he been?"
"Wait and see for yourself, kid," Raatindra said with a wink.
The next day, with gifts from the royal court and countless blessings tucked safely into his pack, Areion stood at the threshold once more — this time ready to leave.
The journey through the shimmering gates was seamless. On the other side, a regal carriage awaited him, flanked by silver-clad royal guards. Lord Lysander, proud and stoic as ever, stood ready to welcome him back.
The journey home felt like slipping into a dream. Familiar farms dotted the countryside, children waved as they passed, and distant church bells tolled in the soft afternoon.
When the capital finally loomed into view — the high spires, the broad, bustling streets, the ancient banners fluttering in the breeze — Areion felt a pang of bittersweet nostalgia.
And then the castle came into sight.