The house had not felt this alive in a long time.
Laughter echoed down the hallways again, tentative at first, then freer as hours passed. The air felt lighter, as if the walls themselves had exhaled after holding grief too long. Even the generator seemed to hum more steadily, like it approved.
Alvin noticed everything.
Daniel talked more than usual, his sharp tongue softened by relief. He argued with Alvin about medicine dosages, about mana residue, about whether resurrected grand mages should be allowed to skip meals. Sasha hovered at first, then relaxed, watching Alvin from the corner of her eye like she was afraid to blink too long.
The children gathered around him like ducklings.
Some stared. Some cried. Some hugged him so tightly he nearly lost his balance. One asked if he was a ghost. Another demanded proof that he would not disappear again. Alvin promised nothing, then sat on the floor and let them braid his hair until everyone was satisfied he was solid.
