---
Nights in Hearthshade were cold, and silence never lasted long — wind through broken shutters, footsteps echoing in alleys, or the sharp thwack of wood against stone.
In the back courtyard behind their home, Damon trained alone.
His arms were thin, and his stances clumsy, but his eyes — they burned.
From the window above, Lina watched silently, blanket around her shoulders.
"Don't tell Kael," Damon whispered, swinging a wooden stick. "Not yet."
"I won't," Lina whispered back.
She smiled as he struck again.
"Just… don't die," she added softly.
---
Elsewhere, Kael hammered down crates in the market post, unaware of the secret his little brother carried.
Euphelia true to herself sneak out of the palace, she knew her presence as a royal was needed at the palace to welcome the Raiders, but what is life without risk?
---
News spread fast. They had fought far beyond the Prana Path, hunting shadowbeasts along the outer border near the Calamity Rift.
Now, they were coming home.
Children lined the streets. Merchants closed their stalls. Flags of each race flew from rooftops — the Dryades' silver leaf, the Ducan flame, the Luckan eye.
Even Hearthshade paused to watch.
Among the crowd: Damon, holding Lina's hand, and Phia, disguised again, her eyes bright with curiosity.
The sound came first — heavy boots, armor clinking, murmurs in strange tongues.
Then they appeared.
---
But they weren't the shining legends the children imagined.
They were broken.
Armor dented, robes torn, some carried on stretchers. A few had blood still staining their cloaks. One man dragged a shattered sword behind him like a shadow he couldn't shake.
And their eyes… gods.
Their eyes were afraid.
---
Damon's grip on Lina's hand tightened.
She looked up at him and whispered, "Are you still sure you want to be one of them?"
Damon didn't answer.
Phia had stopped smiling.
---
As the Raiders moved deeper into the district, they passed Kael's work site.
His hammer stopped mid-swing.
He didn't cheer like the others. He didn't move.
Because he saw what others refused to:
Not brave heroes.
Not legendary warriors.
Just men who survived something worse than death.
And among them, riding near the front — not tall, not flashy, but unmistakable — was Kaizen, the 18-year-old Luckan, youngest vice-captain of the Raiders.
His short silver-blond hair was matted with sweat, his left arm in a sling.
He was from a low house, a race often overlooked.
And still, he had made it.
---
Kael's chest tightened.
He remembered his father's proud words:
"A Raider doesn't fight to be known… he fights so others can sleep."
He never forgot them.
But now, he understood what they cost.
---
Back in the crowd, Damon's eyes never left Kaizen.
Lina leaned her head against his arm.
Phia turned away first.
Her heart, still young, felt something cold for the first time.
---
That night, Hearthshade slept quietly.
But in one small house, a boy gripped a wooden sword tighter under his blanket.
And in another, a brother stared at the badge of a man who'd never come back.
---