Dim light seeped through the windows, enveloping the room in silence. The only sound was the faint, unsteady breathing…
Alethion slowly opened his eyes, feeling an overwhelming heaviness in his body, as if his soul had been pulled away and returned once more.
He looked around—not the battlefield, not the dark forest, but his own bed… in his home.
A familiar scent filled the air—the aroma of medicinal herbs mixed with the soft fragrance his wife always wore.
As his mind slowly grasped his surroundings, he saw a shadow standing beside him… It was Alenia, his old caretaker, standing by his bedside with deep sorrow, her tired eyes brimming with unshed tears.
But the moment she noticed his awakening, her lips trembled, and she quickly turned toward the woman sitting beside him—the woman who had never let go of his hand, even in his unconscious state.
"Lady Meralin… wake up! Alethion has awakened!"
Meralin, who had dozed off in exhaustion, jolted upright, her wide eyes filled with disbelief at what she had just heard.
When she saw his weary face and open eyes, she couldn't hold back… She threw herself at him, embracing him tightly as tears streamed down her face.
"Oh, Sun God! I was so scared… so terrified… I almost lost you!"
Despite his weakness, Alethion slowly lifted his hand and gently placed it on her head, whispering in a hoarse voice:
"I'm here… I haven't left yet…"
At that moment, the door burst open, and Arendal, his loyal steward, stepped inside.
He froze at the entrance, staring at the master he had believed would never awaken. He saw Meralin sobbing into Alethion's chest, and the caretaker covering her mouth in sheer emotion.
He couldn't hold himself back—he quickly bowed his head, hiding his face, but his choked voice betrayed him as he spoke:
"Praise the Sun God for your awakening, my lord… Praise him from the depths of my heart."
Alethion wasn't used to seeing this strong man conceal his tears, but he couldn't speak—he could only look at him in silence.
Before he could say anything, a small girl rushed into the room, her silky black hair bouncing with every step… Elora.
"Father!!"
She threw herself onto him, sobbing, clutching his hand and pressing kisses upon it repeatedly, her tiny face drenched in tears.
"Father… Father… Thank the gods you came back to us… Don't leave again… Please!"
Alethion felt a tightness in his heart—he had never seen his daughter like this before. She was always strong, sharp-witted, always ready to argue with him. But now, she was trembling, terrified, as if she had been on the verge of losing him forever.
With his trembling hand, he wiped her tears away, and despite his pain, he smiled:
"I won't leave… I won't abandon you, my little one."
Behind her, stood Kaylor, his son. He did not rush forward like his sister, but instead remained still, his lips quivering, unshed tears shimmering in his eyes.
Slowly, he approached, his fists clenched. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Finally, with great difficulty, he whispered:
"Thank the gods… for healing you, Father…"
Alethion looked at him, seeing the smile mixed with tears on his face, and something in his eyes he had never seen before… A genuine fear of losing him.
A lump formed in Alethion's throat. Kaylor had grown so much, yet he was still that little boy who looked up to his father as if he were the strongest man in the world.
Reaching out, he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, a silent message: "I'm here… and I'm proud of you."
As Alethion was consumed by the emotions of the moment, he looked around at those surrounding him. Despite his pain and exhaustion, he found himself cherishing what was happening.
For the first time in a long while, he felt true warmth… He realized that he had never been alone.
After the atmosphere had calmed a little, and Alethion felt the warmth he had missed on the battlefield return to him amidst his family and loved ones, he turned to Meralin and asked in a voice still weary but filled with curiosity:
"How did I get here? The last thing I remember was being in the midst of battle…"
Meralin looked at him, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and took a deep breath before she began speaking.
"It was nothing short of a miracle, Alethion… Your steward, Arendal, had gone to the palace to retrieve some supplies I had asked for earlier. When he returned home, he was met with a sight he will never forget."
She paused for a moment, then continued, her voice laced with both awe and fear:
"Stormth… your loyal horse, was standing at the doorstep, his breaths heavy, his legs trembling with exhaustion, yet he did not fall… He remained standing, as if he had been there for years, though he could barely keep himself upright. You were on his back, unconscious, and he… he carried you the entire way, even as his body was on the verge of collapse."
Alethion's eyes widened, a shiver ran through his body… There was no doubt—Stormth was more than just a horse. He was a companion, a friend, one who had stood by him in his darkest moments.
Meralin continued in her warm voice:
"When Arendal saw this sight, he did not hesitate for a moment. He carried you inside and called upon one of the servants who was with him, ordering him to go to the palace immediately to inform us of what had happened and to bring the physicians. And the moment we heard… we did not hesitate. We all rushed to you—even your generals and soldiers, everyone in the palace set out as soon as they learned of your condition."
She nodded toward the window, where faint shadows could be seen moving. "If you don't believe me, the proof is right there… They are still here, guarding the house since the moment you arrived, fearing that any harm might come to you again."
Alethion closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled… a genuine smile, one filled with gratitude, warmth, and emotions he could never feel amidst swords and bloodshed.
He looked at his wife, then at Alenia, then at his children, then at Arendal, who still stood at the door… Then, taking a deep breath, he spoke in a quiet yet deep voice, carrying all the sincerity in his heart:
"I have the most loyal and dearest people in my life… and I hope you always remain this way."
After a few moments of Alethion speaking with his wife and family, the door suddenly burst open with force, as if a storm had swept through the room. Five men entered at once, each carrying a mix of emotions—worry, joy, and barely contained anger. But as expected, Ragarath was the first to break the silence.
"Oh, great knight! Oh, undefeated warrior! Did you need such a long nap? We could have brought you a bed from the palace if you wanted to rest this much!"
He spoke in his booming voice, dramatically spreading his arms wide, attempting to make Alethion laugh. But in truth, there was something else hidden in his tone… something that felt more like a desperate attempt to mask his deep concern.
As always, Velaria couldn't let Ragarath's antics go unchecked.
"Ragarath… stop acting. You cried more than anyone!"
She smirked, raising an eyebrow before turning her gaze to Alethion, a mix of reproach and genuine concern in her eyes.
"And you! How dare you go off alone without telling us? Did you think you could handle everything by yourself? I swear, if you weren't injured, I'd make you pay for this reckless stunt!"
Before she could continue her scolding, another voice spoke up, calmer yet carrying emotions beneath the surface.
"Guys, this isn't the time for blame…"
It was Dracian who spoke, his voice steady, though he couldn't hide the moisture in his eyes. His smile was slightly shaky, as if his heart was screaming with joy, but he was trying to maintain his composure.
"What matters now is that Alethion is finally awake… after far too long."
Before Alethion could respond, Valinor, who had been standing quietly, gave a small yet meaningful smile.
"Welcome back, Alethion."
Then another voice chimed in—this time from Sirenus, who couldn't pass up the chance to tease Ragarath. Crossing his arms, he tilted his head slightly, a sly grin on his lips.
"Ragarath, I've never seen you cry like that before. I swear, you wept like a little girl. Even Alethion's daughter didn't cry as much as you!"
This made Ragarath explode, waving his hands frantically, his face burning with embarrassment.
"I did NOT cry! I told you, something got in my eye!"
Then, he suddenly turned to Alethion, as if expecting him to back him up. But Alethion, who had been watching the entire scene with a smile, couldn't hold back anymore and burst into laughter.
"Ragarath… even when I was unconscious, I heard you crying!"
Suddenly… Ragarath froze for a moment, his face stiffening. Then, his eyes shimmered, but he quickly turned his head away to hide it.
"I didn't cry…" he muttered under his breath, though no one in the room believed him.
Then, in a quieter voice, Alethion spoke, looking around at everyone—their worried faces, his family, his generals… the most loyal people he had ever known.
"Thank you, my friends… You truly mean the world to me."
Then, he smiled—a warm smile, not just of happiness at his return, but of deep gratitude for everything they had done for him.