Thael looked up to the mountain that had been his home for most of his life. The keep overlooking the village was now covered in golden banners replacing the arch queen’s crimson heraldry. The new arch king’s sigil was Lady Justice embroidered in black thread standing in front of a white downward-pointed shield, holding her scale of balance. The sun shone radiant in the clear blue sky, a welcoming warm breeze drifting their dark cloaks to the side.

It had taken over a year to return. During that time he had thought he would never be able to. Never come back to his old life. To his wife; his son. His home.

He turned to Cyrus, Deckard, and Verena. “I’ll meet you all at our quarters. Verena, bring the scroll to the Council with the others.”

“You won’t bring it yourself?” she said. “Krystos told you to declare his decrees to the order, and you alone.”

“You all know his words. There’ll be no difference in who states them.”

He walked away, back to his home. Back to them. The log houses looked the same, moss blemishing the wooden roofs, old men scowling at Thael from their porches, untouched from all the destruction he had witnessed in the war. It was peaceful. For once Thael did not watch from the corners of his eyes. He walked staring straight ahead; ever forward, ever onwards.

The stone chimney was smoking as he approached the house, and there were the tempting smells of cooking. He knocked ­– three raps followed by a pause ending with a fourth knock. It opened and she looked back at him in all her willowy beauty.

“You’ve returned,” she said in Cadish.

Thael hooked back his hood, his face freshly shaved.

“You stayed.”

She opened the door wider, stepping aside for him to enter.

Kuhien crossed her arms. “There was no place to go without you. I thought you had died in the war.”

“There were many times I thought I would. My task was to protect the arch queen’s half-brother, who is now the arch king.”

She frowned. “I thought you were just a soldier.”

Thael sat down. “You said you wanted to know who I am.”

Kuhien sat down facing him. “Tell me.”

And so Thael did. He told her of his order, of who they were and what they did. He told her of their journey to Vinnith, then Haol, and the fleet they brought back, responsible for the Second Reunification. She listened in silence, her eyes keen, as if all her suspicions had now been proven.

“I still remember what you told me when I last saw you,” Thael said softly. “I have spoken with the arch king. He has agreed to grant us safe passage to wherever you choose.” He placed a pouch filled with gold coins onto the table. “The king still needs me, Kuhien. We won’t be safe until his position is certain.”

“And when will that be?” she snapped. “He granted you freedom from all this. We can leave, Thael. We can finally leave this place for good.” She leaned forward to cup his face. “We can be free. Is that not enough?”

“It is. You and Hiro are my home. I’ll go with you to any realm, cross anything in our way.” He looked down at his hands. “Though I’m not sure how to farm. How to raise Hiro.”

Kuhien smiled. “We can learn. People are journeying to Umbra. Perhaps we can find one of their priests in the Heartlands?”

“Perhaps.”

The door clattered open; a boy, slightly taller, slightly bolder, stood in the bright daylight with the wooden sword Thael had given him just over a year ago.

“Hiro,” Kuhien said. “Close the door and welcome your father.”

Thael walked over and knelt before him, the boy solemn as he tousled his hair.

His son dropped the training sword to hug Thael. He sniffled, drawing back. “Pa, Ma said you were dead. Where were you?”

Thael opened his pack, drawing out the wooden case. He pried off its top to reveal the vibrant painted paper kite.

“I went to a faraway land, Hiro. While traveling I brought this.”

“What is it?” Hiro asked in wonder.

“The winds are good today. How about we find out?”