The familiar road back to Vareth felt almost unreal beneath Rin's feet.
The twins ran ahead, their laughter echoing softly through the trees as sunlight filtered down in warm ribbons. For the first time in weeks—months—Rin felt his shoulders loosen, just a little. This path, worn by years of quiet footsteps and passing carts, had always been kind to him. It asked for nothing. It demanded no titles, no vows, no sacrifices wrapped in silk and gold.
"Papa!" Rhen called, skidding to a stop. "Look!"
Rhen had spotted a cluster of wildflowers growing stubbornly at the edge of the road, bright against the dust. The twins crouched together, arguing in hushed voices about which color was better.
Rin smiled faintly and was about to call them back when a familiar voice rang out.
"Rin?"
He turned.
Thomas stood a few paces away, carrying a sack of grain slung over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he fully registered the sight before him.
"You're back," Thomas said, relief washing over his face so openly that Rin felt a small pang of guilt. "And the kids too."
The twins immediately ran toward him.
"Uncle Thomas!" Riven chirped.
Thomas laughed, crouching to steady himself as they nearly knocked him over. "Easy, easy. You two trying to kill me?"
Rhen shook his head solemnly. "Papa says we shouldn't kill people."
Rin snorted softly.
Thomas straightened, his gaze flicking briefly over Rin's face, searching for something—but he didn't ask. Instead, he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"I won't pry," he said carefully. "But… everyone was worried. You vanished so suddenly. The villagers, too. We didn't know if something happened."
Rin inclined his head. "I appreciate that."
Thomas hesitated. "I know it's none of my business, but—"
"It's all right," Rin said gently, cutting him off. "There's nothing you need to worry about anymore."
Thomas studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. He didn't see the shadows that still lingered behind Rin's eyes. He didn't know what kind of danger had brushed too close to this quiet village. And Rin, seeing that innocence, chose not to burden him with it.
"Oh—did you see my aunt?" Rin asked.
Thomas's brow furrowed. "Ah. Yes, actually. A few days ago. She stayed the night, but left again before dawn. Said something about returning home."
Rin's chest tightened slightly. "I see. Thank you."
Thomas smiled. "It's good to have you back. Even if it's just for a bit."
Rin nodded, ushering the twins onward.
---
The house was just as Rin remembered—herbs hanging from the beams, the faint scent of dried leaves and old wood lingering in the air. It welcomed him like an old friend.
Rin barely had time to set their bags down before Rhen darted inside.
"Papa! There's a letter!"
Rin froze.
He crossed the room slowly and picked up the folded note resting on the table. His aunt's handwriting was unmistakable.
Rin unfolded it slowly.
I've returned to our hometown. You and the children should follow when you can. Your father is back.
The words were simple, but their weight pressed down on Rin's chest. He closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself.
"Papa?" Riven asked, tugging at his sleeve. "What's wrong?"
Rin knelt in front of them, smoothing their hair. "Nothing's wrong. We're just… going somewhere else soon."
"Again?" the other twin asked, eyes wide.
"Yes," Rin said softly. "But this time, it's my hometown. Where I grew up."
The twins exchanged looks—then brightened almost instantly.
"Really?" Riven excited exclaimed. "Where Papa was little?"
Rin smiled faintly. "Yes."
They stayed only long enough to rest and say proper farewells. The villagers were surprised but understanding, offering food, blessings, and well-wishes. Vareth had always been kind to Rin, even when he kept parts of himself hidden.
When they finally left, the road stretched forward, unfamiliar yet inevitable.
----------
Rin's hometown welcomed them with the smell of earth and smoke, fields stretching wide beneath an open sky. His aunt was the first to see them, her sharp eyes softening as she hurried forward.
"You finally came," she said, pulling Rin into a brief but tight embrace before kneeling to greet the twins. "And look at you two—so big already."
Rin's father stood a short distance away, watching silently. When Rin met his gaze, the older man stepped forward without hesitation.
"So these are my grandchildren," he said, voice rough with emotion. "I've only seen you when you were barely more than bundles."
The twins greeted him politely, then shyly accepted his affection. Dinner that night was warm and loud, filled with stories and laughter. It felt almost unreal.
Later, when the house had quieted, Rin sat with his father beneath a dim lantern.
"I heard everything," his father said softly. "From your aunt."
Rin bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I was careless."
His father shook his head. "No. I was." His voice hardened slightly. "I should never have left you alone to chase my own curiosity. If I had stayed… you wouldn't have gone to the palace four years ago."
Rin looked up, surprised.
"But that's in the past," his father continued.
"What matters is that you survived. And that you protected them." His eyes softened. "You did well."
Something in Rin finally loosened. He bowed his head deeply. "Thank you."
---
Far away, in the palace, Alaric could not sleep.
He stood by the window for the third time that night, hands clasped behind his back, staring into darkness as though he might see through it.
The nobles' decision echoed in his mind.
Rin and the twins would be fetched.
They would be protected.
But would Rin come willingly?
Alaric knew the answer frightened him.
Your Majesty," a shadow knight said softly from behind.
"Where is he?" Alaric asked without turning.
"He returned to his hometown," the knight replied. "With the children."
Alaric's jaw tightened.
"Prepare the horse," he said quietly. "I'll go myself."
The night swallowed him as he left the palace behind, determination outweighing doubt.
This time, whatever answer Rin gave… Alaric would accept it.