We moved silently back to the gate, the air thick with ash and the scent of victory. Each step felt more exhausting than the last. Marlena first leaned against me before slumping down. By the halfway point, I was carrying her, arms wrapped around her knees, her head resting on my shoulder, breathing shallow but steady. My poor wife had used nearly every drop of mana in the fight. She fought like a blazing star, and now she was completely out of energy.

  Once we passed through the gates, the mood changed. The defenders inside straightened up, some clapping as we walked by, others simply watching with tired respect. No one said a word, but they knew: the worst was behind us because we had made it out.

  Behind us, the golems silently turned around and marched back to the clearing, waiting like giants for the command to return to the tower. I nodded at them, and they stopped at the edge of the inner wall, motionless, with steam softly hissing from their joints.

  I looked down at Marlena. Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

  “Food or sleep?” I asked her softly, fully aware of what the answer would be. She muttered something unintelligible.

  I said, grinning, “Sleep it is.”

  Allira approached me near the command tent, her orange armor streaked with battle grime. Without speaking, she reached out and gently helped me settle Marlena into our temporary quarters, just a canvas-walled space with a cot and a fire crystal lantern, but it would do.

  The two of us gently tucked her in. She was already half-asleep when her head hit the pillow, murmuring something about potatoes and spells.

  Allira took a step back, crossing her arms. “I wish we could join her.”

  “Same,” I said, brushing some hair from Marlena’s face. “But appearances.”

  Allira said quietly, “She has to pass the exam.”

  “Yeah.”

  We both knew it wasn’t about tests or titles; it was about status, legitimacy, and politics. Until then, the world had to see Marlena as my shadow, not my wife. So we waited for now. I looked at Allira. She looked at me. Neither of us said a word, but the thought hung in the air: Soon.

  Allira and I cleaned up as best we could, scrubbing dried blood, ash, and grime from our skin, although the weight of battle still pressed on our bones. Allyson stayed with us, silent and sharp as ever. We left two combat golems outside our tent to guard Marlena while she slept like the dead, too drained to move or protest.

  We headed to the chow tent, drawn by the smell of real food and the sound of relief. Inside, the mood was joyful. Laughter rang out from every table. Soldiers raised tin mugs, shared stories, exaggerated their heroics, and let the adrenaline wash away.

  The Prince and the Duke were already sitting at one of the long tables. They waved us over, and we sat down quietly. Plates of stew and fresh bread were placed in front of us. No one said much at first. Allira and I ate, quietly watching the celebration unfold around us.

  Eventually, the Prince leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “So, Earl,” he asked casually, “now that the rift’s closed, what’s next?”

  I swallowed a mouthful of bread. “Well, sir, we’ll go back to the Tower first. I need to attend to a few projects. After that, we’re heading to Brakenreach. I promised my wife, Seraphina, a visit; she wants to see her father.”

  “Family visits,” the Prince said with a faint smile. “Necessary evils.”

  Before I could respond, Halden Sinthurk, the constantly smug court mage, walked over with a plate in hand and took a seat at the table without asking.

  I turned back to the Prince. “Also, while we’re down that way, I plan to investigate some old mines in my earldom. There’s a chance they still hold value.”

  “Mines?” the Duke perked up. “That could significantly boost the local economy if they’re viable.”

  “Gold and silver?” Halden cut in, half-chewing. "Are you planning to challenge the mines in the western provinces?”

  “Those would be fine,” I said. “But I’m after is much better. Mithril. Orichalcum. That kind of thing.”

  Halden scoffed. “Why waste your time? No one can use those metals. It’s a,” He stopped mid-sentence, staring at Allira as if he were seeing her for the first time. His eyes narrowed. “That armor… I can feel the radiance from here.”

  “He’s slow to notice,” I said dryly, glancing at the Prince and Duke, who both smirked.

  “Allira, dear,” I said with a grin, “would you mind telling the young mage what you’re wearing?”

  Allira turned to Halden, her posture regal and her expression calm. “Custom Orichalcum plate armor,” she said, tapping the chestpiece. “Reinforced with mithril.” Halden’s jaw moved briefly, but no words came out.

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  “That’s impossible,” he finally sputtered. “No one can get that kind of gear, let alone forge it! I demand to know where you got it?”

  Allira smiled warmly and leaned against me. “A gift. From my husband. On our wedding night.”

  Halden blinked hard, as if the words had physically slapped him. “That set is priceless,” he said, blinking rapidly and raising his voice.

  “I’d agree,” the Prince said with a chuckle. “I couldn’t afford one myself.”

  “Maybe I can get a discount?” the Duke added, smiling over his mug.

  I laughed and gave Allira’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Next up is her shield. Medium size, I think?”

  She nodded. “Medium will do. ”

  “I believe that Sir Avelo is teaching shield usage now, if you are up for some intense shield training.” The Duke said.

  “Ah, Sir Avelo. I learned a lot from him, besides how hard the ground is as I was dropped to the ground during his teachings,” the prince added. “You’ll love it, Lady Allira.”

  Halden glanced between us, clearly trying to catch up. His confusion was delicious.

  “Duke Alaric,” I said, “just speak with Misty. She’ll pass the request along to me, and we’ll work something out.”

  The Duke raised his mug in acknowledgment.

  The Prince grinned. “What about me? Don’t I rate something?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I just forge your sword?”

  “Ah, right,” he said with a laugh. “Fair point. But my wife’s birthday is coming up, and I may need a new commission.”

  I chuckled. “Sire, just give me a few ideas. I’m a sucker for gifts with a deadline. There’s this rope bracelet that I need to make next.”

  Next to me, Allira paused mid-sip from her glass. Then, without a word, she reached under the table and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, slow and deliberate. When I glanced at her, she was already looking at me, eyes shining, lips curled in that quiet smile that said I saw what you did, and I love you for it.

  Halden suddenly jabbed a finger toward Allira again, his mouth hanging open like he’d forgotten how to finish a sentence. “Wait. You made that?”

  “Yes, son,” the Duke finally said, clearly amused. “He’s the blacksmith. The one who forged our mithril and orichalcum weapons.”

  Halden’s face turned pale as he pointed at me, the truth striking him with brutal clarity. He sprang to his feet, his chair screeching loudly against the ground, and knocked his plate onto the floor with a crash. Without a word, he spun around and stormed out of the tent, leaving behind stunned silence and the smell of half-eaten stew.

  The Duke chuckled. “Wait until he finds out you also stole his bride-to-be.”

  I smirked. “Poor guy’s going to need a healer and plenty of ale when that sinks in.”

  “You’re enjoying this way too much,” Allira said, though her smile gave her away.

  I leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for her and Allyson to hear.

  “I’m married to the best warrior on the continent, and I get to forge god-tier weapons. Let me have my fun.”

  Laughter and the smell of roasted meat filled the air as soldiers drank and celebrated around the fire. Tankards clanged, someone badly strummed a lute, and relief flowed from the group like steam from a forge. But I wasn’t watching them. I was watching the man who was watching me.

  Off to the side, near the edge of the tent’s glow, an older man sat on a barrel, nursing a mug with the patience of someone who didn’t want to refill it. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t cheer. Just studied me with a steady gaze, as if I were a tool he hadn’t yet decided to use or discard.

  I leaned toward the Prince and lowered my voice. “That man over there, the one with the long coat and sharp eyes, who is he?”

  Prince Kaelen followed my gaze, squinting for a moment through the darkness. Then he gave a small, knowing smile.

  “Oh, that’s Bertram Harengraves. Your sheriff.”

  I blinked. “My what?”

  “Sheriff of Brakenreach,” the Prince said, sipping his wine. “Longtime loyalist to the crown. Handles lawkeeping, border disputes, and the occasional drunken brawl. He arrived at the border a few months ago. Married to Elen, if you can believe it.”

  I looked back at the man, Bertram, who raised his mug slightly, almost like a challenge or a greeting, before taking another slow sip.

  The road was a terrible, muddy mess. Rain started sometime in the dead of night and hadn’t stopped since. For two full days, we marched under a gray sky, soaked to the skin, boots sloshing through mud thick enough to hide a man’s ankle.

  Cold. Wet. Exhausted. Still, we pressed on.

  When the outer walls of the capital finally appeared, it was like surfacing after being underwater. The city, though damp and muted beneath the storm clouds, remained a welcome sight.

  The army dispersed outside the gates, heading to their separate barracks and divisions. We parted from the main force, our golems walking in tight formation behind the carriage. The roads inside the city were just as muddy, but we didn’t mind anymore. Home was close.

  As we walked down the wide stone avenue toward the tower, its massive spire pierced the mist like a promise.

  Then the tower doors swung open. Soft light spilled into the rain, and in that golden glow, four figures waited.

  Two figures were unmistakable: Alpha and Beta, the eternal guardians of the tower, flanking the entrance like twin statues forged from steel and willpower. Beside them stood Misty, calm and unreadable as ever, her cloak soaked by the rain, hands neatly folded in front of her. But it was the fourth figure that made my heart skip a beat.

  Seraphina.

  She stood barefoot in the rain, her midnight-blue silk dress clinging to every curve, soaked through and nearly transparent in some areas. The fabric hugged her body like a second skin, rainwater running down her neck and across her collarbone, tracing her form with silver streaks. Beneath the wet silk, her undergarments’ white color was visible, leaving little to the imagination. Her damp, wild hair had rain-slick strands framing her face and sticking to her cheeks and throat in the most maddening way.

  She didn’t shiver or blink. She stood perfectly still in the rain, as if the storm itself listened to her. And God help me, she was waiting for me. I didn’t even realize I was climbing down from the carriage. I was moving feet, splashing through puddles, rain in my eyes. I reached her and pulled her into my arms without a word. I kissed her as if I were scared I’d vanish if I didn’t.

  She laughed as I twirled her in a complete circle, rain splashing off her dress in a halo of silver droplets.

  “I missed you,” I said, breathless.

  “I waited,” she whispered back.

  When I turned, Allira and Marlena were stepping down from the carriage, soaked cloaks trailing behind them. Seraphina moved away from my arms to greet her sisters, embracing each one in turn. Marlena smiled tiredly, still not fully recovered. Allira, proud and soaked from the rain, held Seraphina a little longer than expected.

  Behind us, the golems advanced in formation, their large feet splashing through the courtyard. The tower doors swung open wider, inviting them inside.

  We were home.