As they continued their walk, they passed a quiet little building with a dark red awning and clean glass windows — the restaurant.
Amukelo's eyes lingered on it for a long moment. The sign above the entrance was the same, hanging slightly crooked, but the warm glow from inside made it feel like a memory that hadn't yet faded.
He smiled faintly, and a breath of nostalgia left his chest as he said, "That was a nice place…"
Pao looked up at it too, and her eyes sparkled a little with memory. "Yeah…" she said softly, then nudged him with her elbow. "But there will be more places like this. Especially in bigger towns. Just imagine the food in capital cities. Oh — or those little riverside spots where the chairs are all outside."
Amukelo laughed under his breath and nodded. "Can't wait to go to them with you."
Pao smiled, warm and content. "Me neither."
They paused outside the restaurant just for a second longer before continuing their walk. They didn't need to go in — the memory was already vivid.
After another quiet stretch of road, they reached a modest but well-kept building nestled beside a tidy little garden. A white picket fence surrounded it, and small lavender bushes lined the path to the front door. The wood siding was clean and freshly painted, and though it wasn't anything extravagant, it had the kind of warmth that made a person feel safe just looking at it.
Pao tilted her head, curious. "What is this place?"
Amukelo looked at it with a soft expression. "The girl you were jealous of lives here. Sara. She lives here with her grandmother. I promised them I'd visit one day. And, well... what better time than now?"
Pao's cheeks tinted pink at the reminder, and she gave him a sideways glance. "I wasn't jealous. I was... curious."
Amukelo smirked. "Right. Of course."
He stepped forward and knocked gently on the door. There was a long pause. No answer.
He knocked again, a little firmer this time. Still nothing.
Pao folded her arms and gave him a skeptical look. "Are you sure this is the right house?"
Amukelo frowned slightly. "Yeah, I think so…"
But just as he said it, the door opened with a quiet creak. It was Sara.
She looked a little different than the last time he saw her. Not worse — just quieter. The bright energy she'd had when she first met him seemed to have dulled slightly. Her eyes still held warmth, but it was dimmer now, like a lantern in the late stages of burning.
"Oh," she said. "It's you… Amukelo. What brings you here?"
"Hey Sara," Amukelo said, stepping back a little and offering a polite smile. "We're leaving Llyn soon. I just thought I'd say goodbye — to you and your grandmother."
Sara paused for a moment, then opened the door a bit wider. "Ah... okay. Come in. Let's talk inside."
Amukelo and Pao exchanged a look. Something about Sara's tone felt off — not sad, but distant. Still, they followed her inside.
The house had the same welcoming smell Amukelo remembered — dried herbs, warm tea, and a faint touch of old wood. The small sitting area was clean and modest, with a simple wooden table, two chairs, and a low bookshelf lined with neatly stacked books and little hand-carved ornaments.
As they stepped inside, Amukelo reached behind him and pulled something from under his cloak.
"I also brought this," he said. "The wooden sword you gave me. I didn't got to use it too much, but it was a good gift. Meant a lot at the time. I figured... since we can't take everything with us, I'd return it to you."
Sara didn't seem particularly moved. She nodded lightly and said, "Ugh... whatever, just leave it here."
Her tone wasn't cold, but it lacked the friendliness she used to show. Amukelo noticed. He gently leaned the wooden sword against the wall near the bookshelf.
Then Sara asked, "Do you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee, or water?"
Amukelo shook his head. "No, thank you. We're just passing by. We won't stay long."
The silence after that was slightly awkward. Amukelo glanced around the room again, not really knowing where to rest his gaze. Everything was as he remembered — the shelf with carved animals, the dried herbs still hanging over the stove, the little faded blanket on the back of the rocking chair. But now it all felt... off. As though time had slowed here but no longer belonged to anyone.
He rubbed the back of his neck and asked gently, "Soo… are we waiting here because we're waiting for your grandma, or...?"
Sara, who had been standing near the window with her arms folded tightly over her chest, slowly turned back toward them. There was a weariness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. It wasn't bitterness or resentment — just a kind of quiet fatigue, like someone who hadn't slept properly in days.
"No," she said, voice thin. "We're inside because I don't like to talk about this where others might hear... but no. She passed away."
The words dropped like stones.
She looked at them both, then sat down heavily across from them at the low wooden table. "A few days after the party," she added softly.
Amukelo went still. His mouth parted slightly as if to say something, but nothing came at first. Finally, he lowered his head and said, "Uh… I'm sorry to hear that. I should've come to the party."
Sara's eyes wandered toward the window. She stared out at the garden, which looked a little overgrown now.
"That's fine," she said with a light shrug. "Honestly, the fact that the party even happened at all was a miracle in itself. If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have managed it. None of our family stayed long. A few hours, at most. But because of what you did — getting everything set up, helping me plan it… she got to see everyone. Just once more."
She smiled faintly — a sad, almost tired smile — and then shook her head. "Don't blame yourself. She was happy. I think that's more than most people get before they go."
For a while, no one spoke.
Pao stayed quiet, watching her with gentle eyes, her hands folded in her lap. Amukelo kept his gaze on Sara, but he wasn't sure what to say. He'd come here to say goodbye — to offer something good — and instead he felt like a ghost himself, showing up too late, empty-handed.
Then, after a stretch of silence, he asked carefully, "So… you're living here alone now? What do you plan to do from now?"
Sara nodded. "Yeah, I'm surviving somehow. I'm planning to find a good husband, move on, and... live my life."
She gave a stiff, almost rehearsed shrug. "These days I just work, keep busy. Try to think about the future. Find someone to settle with. Live a good life. That's what she wanted for me, anyway. Said she didn't want me getting too sentimental, to just keep living."
A beat of silence followed, and Sara gave a heartless laugh. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sad, of course. But she was old, and… well, I accepted it a while ago. I've had time to think."
She paused. Her hands were folded neatly on the table, but her thumbs kept fidgeting — brushing against each other, over and over. She took in a sharp breath, then laughed once, dryly.
"It's this place," she whispered, looking around. "That's what makes it harder. You know? It's not that I can't keep going. It's just this house... Every room is a memory. Every little sound reminds me of her humming, or her walking, or calling for tea."
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word. And before she could catch herself, tears started running down her cheeks.
She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, trying to hold it in. "Huh… what's going on with me?" she said, half-laughing, half-crying. "I don't even know why I'm crying right now. I've been fine."
Amukelo's face softened with deep sorrow. Without saying anything, he stepped forward and hugged her. She didn't resist.
Her hands trembled as they clutched his shirt, and she leaned into him just for a moment — just long enough for the tears to finally flow freely. It wasn't a loud cry, or an uncontrollable sob. Just that quiet, aching release that came after trying to hold too much in for too long.
Pao sat silently, giving them the moment.
After a little while, Sara pulled back. She wiped her eyes again and laughed breathlessly. "I'm sorry. I really didn't think I'd do this today. It's just… not every day I talk about her out loud."
Amukelo stepped back, his eyes still sad. "Is there anything we can do for you before we leave Llyn?"
She shook her head and tried to pull herself together. "No. I'm handling everything. I have some cousins that check in every once in a while, and I've got work. I'll be fine. Really."
Amukelo nodded slowly. "Well… we'll be around for a few more days. If you need anything — anything at all — just ask for us at the inn. I'll help however I can."
Sara smiled through the last of her tears. "Thanks, Amukelo."
And with that, he and Pao turned and made their way to the door. As they stepped out into the sunlight again, Amukelo glanced back one last time.
The door closed softly behind them, and the wind picked up just enough to carry the scent of lavender from the garden.
The sun hung low in the morning sky, casting a warm golden hue over the rooftops of Llyn as the group gathered outside the front gates.
Bral adjusted the strap of his bag, then instinctively reached up to clap his hands as he usually did when he was getting ready for something. But his hand caught empty air where the other once was. He stopped, grunted awkwardly, and grabbed his forearm instead, muttering with a smirk, "Well… so we're finally leaving, huh?"
Bao looked out at the road that stretched into the distance, its long, twisting line reaching toward the edge of the trees. "Yeah. Finally," she said with a soft exhale. "It feels strange, though. We've been here so long. I remember when we arrived… I was just worried about getting stronger. But now... looking back, it's not just strength. It's everything. It's the people we met, the messes we got into, the things we saw and learned. I'll remember this place well."
Pao, who stood beside her sister with her staff strapped neatly across her back and her newly runed robe catching the wind, nodded. "We'll have to come back one day," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "When we've traveled and seen the world. Just to see how much we've changed — and how much Llyn has."
Amukelo stood quietly beside them, his pack full, the newly reinforced armor strapped over his frame, and the still-glowing sword resting across his back like a silent guardian. He looked out past the gates, then back toward the town. "I'll miss it," he said simply.
Idin groaned and flung a hand toward the air. "Hey, hey, hey… There we go again. Don't get all emotional now. You're ruining the send-off!"
Amukelo turned to him with a faint laugh. "Why are you always so sensitive about this kind of stuff?"
"I'm not sensitive," Idin said defensively, folding his arms. "I just don't like people moping about things ending. You should be excited that something new's starting. That's the part to focus on."
"I'm not sad," Amukelo said with a grin. "It's just… nostalgic."
Idin rolled his eyes, but he stepped up and slung an arm over Amukelo's shoulder, pulling him into a sideways headlock. "Nostalgic or not, come on — think about it! New places, new people, new food. And the clothing styles in the west? I heard they wear jackets with golden buttons and weird tall collars. You'll probably look like an idiot in them, which makes me want to see it even more."
Bral chuckled and leaned on his sword. "You say that, but aren't you the one who gets misty-eyed every time you mention your sister?"
Idin flushed a little and gritted his teeth, turning his face away. "That's different."
Bral narrowed his eyes. "How? It's not like you'll never see her again. You're just not seeing her now."
"Whatever," Idin muttered. "Besides, how do you know? Maybe I won't get back to her. Maybe this road ends before that."
That made the air tighten a little. All of them paused, just long enough for silence to settle in. Amukelo raised an eyebrow, and then said, "Now you're the one ruining the moment."
Idin waved him off and started walking. "Shut up. Come on, what are you waiting for? The road's not going to cross itself."
Bral barked a laugh. "You act like Bao now."
"Hey," Bao snapped, already raising her leg.
Bral danced backward with a grin. "See? Just like her — you both get aggressive when you're emotional."
Bao lunged at him for a real kick, but he dodged again, hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! I surrender! Just proving my point!"
Pao giggled behind her hand, and Amukelo's chuckle slipped out. It was strange, how even moments like this — so ordinary and playful — could feel deeply important.
As they continued walking, they reached the bend in the road where the view of Llyn slowly faded behind the hills. Amukelo paused, stopping at the edge. He turned to take one last look. The rooftops, the stone streets, the way the town sat cradled between the trees and the river.
He saw it all again — his first steps into town, barefoot and cautious. The first fight. The faces of strangers who became comrades. Training under Dainor. Eating at that restaurant with Pao. Sitting at the pub, wondering what came next.
Pao stopped beside him, looking over her shoulder. She didn't speak at first, but her eyes shimmered faintly. "Let's go," she said softly. "The others are waiting."
Amukelo nodded. He gave the town one final glance, whispered something under his breath, then turned to catch up with the rest.