The town remained quiet as Argolaith and the others passed through it. Doors creaked slightly behind them. Curtains shifted. But no one came out to greet him—not a single old face, not even the familiar shopkeepers he had known as a child.
Seminah wasn't afraid of him.
They were afraid of what followed him.
Still, Argolaith didn't hesitate. He led them through the narrow stone path behind the market square, past the ancient cedar tree that leaned just slightly toward the sun, and onward toward the far edge of town.
To where the woods began again.
To where his cabin still stood.
The cabin looked exactly as he remembered.
Weathered wood. Moss creeping up the corners. A rusted lantern hanging by the window. The wooden steps still creaked in the same places when he climbed them. The door didn't lock—it never had. The handle was worn smooth from use.
He stepped inside.
Kaelred lingered on the threshold, peeking in. "So this is where you grew up."
