Ishmael walked through the familiar corridors alone.
The conversations behind him gradually faded until only the quiet atmosphere of the estate remained. Servants continued their duties with practiced efficiency, each bowing respectfully as he passed. Some of the older ones paused for a fraction longer than necessary, surprise flickering across their faces before returning to their work.
Word had already begun spreading, the Duke's youngest son had returned.
Eventually, Ishmael stopped before a large wooden door, he stared at it for several seconds. Nothing had changed.
The crest of the Bane family, a behemoth was still engraved in the center, untouched by time.
He reached forward and pushed it open and noted that the room was exactly as he remembered.
A spacious bedroom greeted him, illuminated by sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city of Bloodhaven. Shelves lined one wall, still filled with books he had once collected. Opposite them stood a polished wooden desk with neatly stacked papers, while a large bed rested against the far wall beneath a dark blue canopy embroidered with silver stars.
Everything was spotless.
Someone had been cleaning the room regularly, even after all these years.
Ishmael slowly stepped inside. His silver eyes wandered across every corner.
"…They really left everything alone."
A faint voice answered inside his mind.
"They were waiting," Lunaris added calmly.
Ishmael didn't respond.
Instead, he walked toward the window and looked outside.
Bloodhaven stretched far beyond the estate grounds. Unlike Heliodor, the city showed no signs of destruction. Streets bustled with activity, noble estates dotted the landscape, and distant mountains and forests surrounded the territory like natural walls.
Peace.
For the first time since the world went to shit, he was somewhere safe.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Young Master?"
Ishmael turned.
"Come in."
The door opened, revealing two maids carrying folded clothes.
Both looked barely older than him.
They bowed politely.
"The Lady instructed us to prepare fresh clothing and draw a bath for you."
Ishmael blinked.
"Aurelia huh?"
"Yes, Young Master."
"…I see."
Neither maid asked questions.
They quietly placed the clothes on the bed before disappearing toward an adjoining bathing room.
Within minutes, steam drifted gently through the doorway.
"The bath is ready."
"Thank you."
The two bowed once more before leaving him alone.
The room became silent again.
Ishmael looked down at the neatly folded clothes.
A black formal shirt.
Dark trousers.
A long golden-trimmed coat bearing the Bane insignia.
Exactly his size.
"…When did they even prepare these?"
Lunaris chuckled. "I don't think they prepared them today." Ishmael paused. "…You think they always expected me to return?"
"I think," Lunaris replied softly, "they never fully accepted that you were gone."
Silence followed.
Eventually, Ishmael sighed, undressed, and entered the bathroom.
Hot water filled a large steaming marble tub scented with fine oils and flower petals, surrounded by candlelight, soft towels, and an atmosphere of quiet luxury.
Without hesitation, he stepped inside.
The warmth spread through his tired body almost instantly.
He closed his eyes.
Every ache disappeared beneath the soothing warmth.
"…This feels illegal." He said, a smile on his face.
Lunaris laughed. "You've been sleeping on rocks for months."
"Fair point."
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
The silence was comfortable.
Peaceful.
Then Ishmael finally broke it.
"…You were quiet earlier."
"I was thinking."
"About?"
"The demon."
Ishmael opened his eyes. Eyes narrowed into slits.
Lunaris continued. "Dominic wasn't important."
"…He wasn't."
"He truly was only a scout."
That made Ishmael frown.
"If someone like him is only a scout…"
"Then the armies behind him are far greater threats."
The warmth of the bath suddenly felt less comforting.
Lunaris continued calmly.
"Ascending worlds always attract invaders."
"Demons."
"And other races."
Ishmael leaned back against the stone.
"…How many?"
"I don't know."
"…Stronger than Dominic?"
"Infinite, the cosmos is vast and full of terrors."
Silence settled once again.
Finally, Ishmael sighed.
"…Guess I have a long way to go."
"You do."
"But."
Lunaris' tone became lighter.
"You also have something most people don't, something people would kill for."
"And that's?"
" Talent, undeniably so."
Ishmael smiled faintly.
"…Yeah."
Maybe he did.
Nearly an hour later, Ishmael stepped back into his room dressed in the clean clothes he'd been provided.
His damp silver hair had been pushed back neatly, and for the first time in weeks, he looked less like someone wandering through endless battlefields and more like the young noble he had once been.
He walked toward the window once more and looked over Bloodhaven.
The city glowed beneath the warm afternoon sun.
Children could be seen running through the streets in the distance while merchants called out to passing customers. Guards patrolled the walls without urgency, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no immediate danger demanding his attention.
He exhaled slowly.
"…It's quiet."
"It is." Lunaris agreed.
"I almost forgot what quiet sounded like."
Lunaris didn't answer.
There wasn't anything that needed to be said.
Ishmael sat down on the edge of the bed and collapsed into it, arms folded behind his head, intending to rest for only a few minutes.
The mattress sank beneath his weight.
It was softer than anything he'd slept on in months.
His eyes drifted toward the ceiling.
"I'll just…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Sleep claimed him almost immediately.
————
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
A gentle sound echoed through the room.
"Young Master."
No response.
Another knock followed, slightly louder this time.
"Young Master Ishmael."
Silver eyes slowly opened.
For a brief moment, he simply stared at the unfamiliar, yet familiar ceiling, disoriented.
Then everything came rushing back.
Bloodhaven.
The estate.
Home.
"…Mm."
He sat upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before glancing toward the window.
The afternoon sun had vanished.
Beyond the glass, the sky had turned brilliant shades of orange and crimson as evening settled over the Bane Dukedom.
"…How long was I asleep?"
"Several hours," Lunaris answered, sounding amused. "You needed it."
Another knock came.
"Young Master?"
"Come in."
The door opened, revealing Alistair standing outside with his usual impeccable posture.
A faint smile rested on the old butler's face.
"I apologize for waking you."
"You don't have to."
Ishmael stood, stretching slightly as lingering stiffness left his body.
"I didn't realize I was that tired."
Alistair's smile widened almost imperceptibly.
"After everything you've experienced recently, I would have been more concerned if you hadn't fallen asleep."
Ishmael chuckled.
"…Fair enough."
The butler's gaze briefly swept over him, seemingly satisfied that he looked far more rested than before.
"The Patriarch has asked that the family gather for dinner."
There it was.
The moment he'd been unconsciously avoiding.
Dinner.
The first meal he would share with his family in years.
His father would be there.
Aurelia.
Ezekiel.
Probably Alistair standing nearby, making sure everything proceeded perfectly as always.
His heartbeat quickened slightly.
Alistair seemed to notice. "You don't have to say everything tonight."
"I know."
"You only have to arrive."
Ishmael smiled faintly.
"…Lia said the same thing."
"Lady Aurelia is a remarkably perceptive young woman."
"I've noticed."
He patted down his clothes, getting rid of the creases before taking one last glance around his room.
It still felt surreal.
After everything…
He was finally home.
"…Let's go."
Alistair inclined his head before stepping aside.
"Of course, Young Master."
Together, they left the room.
The doors closed quietly behind them as they made their way through the softly illuminated halls of the estate toward the grand dining hall, where the rest of the Bane family was already waiting.