The moment Arin stepped through the gates, the world outside felt like a different kind of beast. The noise was deafening. The streets were crowded with people — some hurried, others moving as if they owned the very air they breathed. The buildings towered over him, casting long shadows across the narrow streets. The smell of oil, sweat, and food filled his nose, but it did nothing to calm the storm in his mind.
The City of Valor, they called it. A place where dreams were made… or crushed beneath the weight of ambition. Arin couldn't tell which one awaited him, but he knew that it was going to be a battle either way.
As he walked through the streets, the gazes of others felt like daggers. The wealthy, the powerful, the elites — they looked at him as if he were nothing more than a speck of dust. His torn clothes and weary face were enough to make the wealthiest turn their noses up at him.
"Get out of the way, beggar!" someone shouted from behind him.
He flinched as a well-dressed man pushed past him, knocking him to the side. The man's sneer was the only thing Arin saw before he stumbled, catching himself against a nearby stall.
"Pathetic."
Arin didn't respond. He couldn't. The humiliation was too deep, and his pride had been ground into dust so many times that he had no more left to give. He had to keep moving forward. Every insult, every sneer, only reminded him of what he had become. A nobody. A mere pawn in a city that cared nothing for the weak.
The thought of his parents kept him going. They were the only ones who mattered now. If he could just get back to them… everything would be okay.
He ignored the leering looks from the highborn children who played in the streets, stepping over his fallen body as though he were invisible. He didn't belong here, and they made sure he knew it at every turn.
"This is what it feels like to be nothing."
Arin's stomach churned with frustration, but he swallowed it down. He had no time for self-pity. Not now.
The crowd became denser, pushing and shoving as people rushed by in a hurry. He could hear the laughter of the privileged, the sound of metal coins clinking, the voices of merchants hawking their goods, but none of it mattered. All he wanted was to reach his home, to see his parents, and to know that they were still alive.
But as he neared the familiar alleyway where his house was located, something felt wrong. There were no sounds of the street vendors, no children running about. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness.
His heart began to race as he pushed through the final stretch of the alley, his body aching from the journey.
When he finally reached the front door, he hesitated. For a moment, doubt crept into his mind. What if his parents had given up on him? What if they were gone? What if everything he had suffered was for nothing?
But then, he heard it.
A soft sob.
Arin's breath caught in his throat, and before he could think, he pushed open the door. The dim interior of the house greeted him — the walls cracked, the floorboards uneven, and the air musty. But that wasn't what caught his attention.
It was the sight of his mother and father, sitting on the floor, their heads bowed, tears falling from their eyes.
"Arin… Arin... where are you?" His mother's voice was broken, raw with grief.
His father sat beside her, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. The sight of them — once so strong and full of life — now crumpled in despair, made something inside Arin snap. He couldn't let them live like this. Not anymore.
Without thinking, he called out.
"I'm home."
The words barely left his mouth before both of them snapped their heads up. His mother's eyes, red from crying, widened in disbelief.
"Arin? Is that really you?"
She stood up shakily, her face filled with confusion and hope. His father's eyes softened with relief as he reached out.
Tears welled in Arin's eyes, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something close to warmth in his chest. It wasn't the hunger or the coldness he had endured; it was love. Pure, untainted love from the people who had always cared for him.
His mother rushed forward, collapsing into his arms.
"I thought you were gone... I thought you were dead..."
His father followed, his hands trembling as he reached out, holding Arin close.
"We couldn't... we couldn't lose you too, son. We thought..."
Arin's chest tightened as he held them both, his own tears falling freely now. It didn't matter how broken he was or how much the world had torn him apart. This moment was worth it all. His parents were still here. They were still alive.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
His voice cracked with emotion, and he squeezed them both tighter, as if trying to make up for all the time lost in the forest, the years spent struggling alone. He wasn't going to let them suffer anymore. Not if he could help it.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Arin allowed himself to cry, to feel the relief of being home, of being with his family again.