The dirt road stretched ahead, winding through gentle hills and scattered trees. Birds chirped overhead, and the scent of early spring flowers filled the air. Cassian walked in silence, the sounds of his footsteps mingling with those of Marc and Milan beside him. Their pace was steady, and their presence comforting.
After months away from home, the familiar landscape brought back a thousand memories—some warm, some bitter. He wondered how much had changed. Did his family miss him? Were they angry he hadn't returned sooner?
"Still quiet, huh?" Marc said, stretching as they walked. "You're really tense. Relax, we're just visiting your little countryside shack, not storming a dungeon."
Cassian chuckled, but his smile was faint. "You don't know my mom."
Milan raised an eyebrow. "Should we be scared?"
Cassian smirked. "Maybe."
They passed the final hill, and there it was: a modest wooden house with a stone chimney, surrounded by a small vegetable garden and a fence made from old oak planks. Smoke rose gently from the chimney, and clothes danced on a line in the breeze. The house looked exactly as he remembered.
As they approached, the front door creaked open. A young girl with curly black hair and wide green eyes stepped out. Her expression froze when she saw him.
"…Big brother?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Cassian stopped. His chest tightened. "Elwill…"
She shrieked with joy and ran at him, leaping into his arms.
"You're back!" she cried, squeezing him tightly. "You're really back!"
Cassian held her close, burying his face in her hair. "I'm sorry. I should've come sooner."
Behind them, the door opened wider, revealing a middle-aged woman and an older man. His mother, worn yet beautiful, held a hand to her mouth. His father, lean and stern as always, stood tall, but his eyes glistened.
"Cassian," his mother said, her voice breaking. "My boy…"
He let go of Elwill and took a step forward. "Mother. Father."
And just like that, they embraced—tight and trembling, years of distance melting away in a single moment.
Later that evening, the house was warm and alive with laughter. Cassian sat at the wooden dining table, a familiar bowl of vegetable stew in front of him. His mother hadn't stopped crying for a good ten minutes earlier, while his father had kept a straight face—but Cassian saw the pride behind his silent nods.
Marc and Milan sat beside him, clearly enjoying the homemade food.
"Alright, I'll admit it," Marc said, mouth full. "This is the best damn stew I've had all year."
"I could stay here forever," Milan sighed. "You sure you want to leave, Cassian?"
Cassian smiled. "If I didn't have things to do, I would."
Once the food was cleared, he reached into his bag and pulled out three carefully wrapped packages.
"I brought gifts," he said, placing them on the table. "One for each of you."
He handed the first to Elwill, who tore it open eagerly. Inside was a wooden music box, hand-carved with tiny stars and moons. When she opened it, a gentle tune played—a lullaby from their childhood.
Elwill's eyes sparkled. "I love it! I love it!"
Next was a pair of new gloves for his father, made of sturdy leather reinforced with mana threads for his farm work. "These are expensive," his father muttered, brushing a thumb over them. But Cassian could see the faint smile tugging at his lips.
Finally, he handed his mother a silver comb inlaid with a tiny sapphire. She gasped softly, running her fingers along it with reverence.
"This is too much," she whispered.
"No," Cassian said, shaking his head. "It's not enough."
That night, Cassian sat outside on the porch, gazing up at the stars. Elwill curled beside him with a blanket over her shoulders.
"You've changed," she said, peeking up at him. "You look stronger… and cooler."
Cassian chuckled. "Do I?"
"Yeah," she said proudly. "But you're still my stupid big brother."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
There was a pause before she asked, "Do you have to leave again?"
"I do. But this time, I'll come back. I promise."
The next few days passed peacefully. Cassian helped around the house, tended the garden with his father, and let his mother fuss over him. Elwill refused to leave his side, dragging him into childish games and making him promise to write letters from the Holy Capital.
Marc and Milan, surprisingly, adapted well. Milan fixed the fence while Marc became popular with the village kids, telling exaggerated stories about their adventures.
But all peaceful moments must end.
On the morning of the fourth day, Cassian stood in front of the house once more, his bags packed.
His family stood with him. His mother wiped tears from her eyes. His father simply nodded with quiet pride. Elwill clung to his waist, refusing to let go.
"You'll come back, right?" she asked again.
"I promise," Cassian said, kneeling and placing a hand over her heart. "You'll be the first one I visit."
With a final hug, he turned away and began his walk toward the Holy Capital. Marc and Milan followed closely behind.
And though his heart ached, it was filled with something deeper—purpose.
He had found strength. He had found people who believed in him. And now, with his family's blessing, he was ready for what came next.
The Holy Capital awaited.
–To be Continued...