We approached the medical building with deliberate steps, our confidence carefully assembled like armor before battle. This wasn't like our previous visits—hurried, or guilt-laden. Today, we came to say goodbye properly.
The white stone structure stood serene against the afternoon sky, its purpose of healing somehow reflected in its very architecture. Sunlight glinted off the small, circular windows that dotted its facade.
"Ready?" I asked, glancing at my companions.
Rowan adjusted his collar nervously. "As I'll ever be."
Maya simply nodded, her expression unreadable as always when emotions threatened to surface.
We walked straight inside without hesitation, passing through the entry hall to the small waiting area. Unlike the crowded chaos of our first visit, the room stood nearly empty. Only Thalos, the healer, occupied the space. He reclined in a chair, deeply engrossed in a leather-bound tome, barely acknowledging our presence with a flickered glance.
"They're in there," he said flatly, pointing toward Lilia's room without looking up from his reading.
As we approached the closed door, our carefully constructed confidence began to waver. The weight of all that had happened—the horrors we'd witnessed together, the bonds forged through blood and tears—pressed against my chest. But this was no time for second-guessing. With a steadying breath, I pushed the door open, and we filed in one by one.
The scene before us stood in stark contrast to our last visit. Earlston leaned against the wall, his posture more relaxed, more like when we'd first met. Cecilia occupied a chair beside him, her usual scowl noticeably absent. Smith sat perched on the edge of Lilia's bed, engaged in quiet conversation with the bedridden woman.
But what struck me immediately as they all turned toward us was something I hadn't expected to see again so soon—they were smiling. The hollow look still lingered in their eyes, carrying the indelible memories of what they'd endured, but for the first time since the incident, their faces weren't masks of hopeless despair.
Lilia spoke first, her voice soft but warm. "You guys came back! I'm so happy."
"Of course," I replied with more confidence than I felt. "There's no way we would leave without saying goodbye."
"Well, thank you," she said, her gentle smile brightening her pale features. "And I especially thank you for getting my friends back safely. I heard they couldn't have done it without you."
Her words struck a chord within me. I didn't feel deserving of gratitude yet the sincerity in her eyes made rejection of her thanks impossible.
"That goes both ways," I said carefully. "I can't thank you all enough for everything you did for us. Total strangers, and yet with no ulterior motives, you helped us so much. Who knows where we would be if we hadn't met you."
Maya and Rowan nodded in silent agreement beside me.
Smith rose from the bed, a smile still curved on his lips. He approached me with deliberate steps, then unexpectedly knelt down to meet my eyes at equal level. Confusion washed over me.
"Wh... wh—" I stuttered, unsure what was happening.
Before I could form a coherent question, he wrapped his powerful arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. I stood frozen, arms suspended in shock, before finally surrendering to the moment and returning the hug. After a long moment, he released me and stepped back.
"I'm glad I met you, Kai Foster," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "And you too, Rowan and Maya. I'm sorry for what happened, but I hope soon it becomes an unpleasant distant memory on your journey."
He stood fully and gestured toward the chairs. "Come, sit for a while. Let's talk."
We gladly accepted his invitation, settling into the small circle of chairs. What I had expected to be a brief farewell transformed into hours of conversation. They shared tales of their past adventures—Smith's booming laughter returning as he recounted their triumphs, Earlston adding precise tactical details, Cecilia rolling her eyes at their embellishments but smiling nonetheless.
We offered stories of our own, carefully omitting certain details—Ms. Vera and the mysterious circumstances surrounding her, not out of distrust, but because there remained so many questions I was still trying to answer myself.
We outlined our plans for departure, and Smith offered valuable advice about the roads ahead, potential dangers to avoid, and inns that wouldn't overcharge travelers.
Maya and Lilia formed an unexpected connection, their conversation flowing easily despite their contrasting personalities. Lilia's endless compliments left Maya a blushing, flustered mess by the end—something I filed away for future teasing material.
As our conversation naturally began to wind down, one question continued to burn in my mind.
"Are you still planning on being an adventurer, Smith?" I finally asked.
His smile faded instantly. His eyes lowered to the ground, and a heavy silence filled the room. When he finally looked up, his smile had returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"No," he said simply. "Earlston and Cecilia are going to find a new party. I'm staying here to help care for Lilia."
The weight of his decision hung in the air. Smith, the legendary warrior whose stories of adventure had captivated us, was hanging up his sword. Before guilt could fully take root in my chest, Cecilia interjected, her tone deliberately light.
"New party or not, don't think you can get rid of us that easily. We'll always be around to annoy you two," she said with exaggerated sarcasm.
After that, our conversation dwindled to comfortable silence, broken only by occasional remarks about the weather or trivial matters—the kind of talk people engage in when deeper words have already been exchanged.
Finally, it was time to leave. We said our goodbyes to Lilia first, promising to return someday with grand stories of our own. Earlston approached next, giving each of us a paternal pat on the head—a gesture that would have seemed condescending from anyone else but felt right coming from him.
"Safe travels," he said gruffly. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Cecilia came forward next, her hands clasped nervously together, eyes fixed firmly on her own feet. This was the woman who had regarded us with suspicion and barely concealed hostility since our first meeting.
"I—I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
"What?" Rowan asked from behind me.
The question only flustered Cecilia further. Her face flushed crimson, and her next words tumbled out in a rush.
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for how I treated you. It wasn't kind, and in the end, I would be dead if it wasn't for you three, so I'm sorry... a-and thank you."
Before any of us could respond, she turned and hurried away, unable to bear the vulnerability of the moment any longer.
Smith was the last to approach. Though he tried to project the same confident demeanor of the adventurer we'd met earlier that week, the difference was unmistakable. His gaze carried the weight of profound change—of loss and new purpose.
"You three stay safe," he said, clasping my shoulder firmly. "And remember, you have friends for life here in Dawnscross."
We smiled and before leaving I made sure to giving back his sword, after that we exchanged final farewells, and stepped out into the afternoon sun. The weight of departure settled around us as we turned back toward the inn, where we would spend one final night before setting out on the next leg of our journey.
None of us spoke as we walked. Words seemed inadequate for the strange mixture of sadness and anticipation that accompanied endings and beginnings. Tomorrow would bring new roads, new challenges, and perhaps answers to the questions that haunted my dreams.