Hours later...
When they arrived at Avienne Hall, there was neither a red ribbon nor a festive welcome. Rain streaked the moss-glazed windows, and puddles scattered beneath the stone steps. Even Marcus, ever the bold and brash sibling, crept, as if walking through memories. Jonas, the loyal butler, shouldered the weight of household rites, which began humbly with the kettle's sharp whistle and his methodical search for tea.
Setting foot inside the manor was less of an arrival, more of a gentle ending and an unnerving beginning. Portraits lined the corridors, featuring familiar faces, and it seemed ironic that those images conveyed a range of emotions, from disapproval to curiosity, all serving as witnesses to a seemingly new chapter.
Sera's boots echoed with deliberate thuds while Marcus navigated the hallways, trying with his intellect to retell the story of Avienne. The spacious rooms seemed to listen, ready yet reserved. The wall gallery inside the house is plain and not warm.
Marcus shook his head.
Jonas, fussing over tea and napkins as though fortifying roots in new soil, invites Marcus to retreat to the guest hall. This left Sera and Callum at the kitchen table, silence stretching between them like a taut thread. Sera traced her finger along the rim of her mug, eyes distant.
It was Sera who broke the hush. "I left the military," she said quietly, words calculated, bracing herself for the pain of being ignored. But her voice remained steadier than she felt. "These past months, we have been temporarily detained and were not allowed to contact the outside world, which is why I wasn't able to communicate with you."
Callum did not answer with surprise, but a quiet nod, as if he'd seen the possibility coming. The air loosened near Sera's shoulders, though the guilt and relief within her tangled tightly.
She pressed onward, "I've enrolled at the university—the one built by your father. I am not asking you to lend me power and protection there, I just want you to know where to send me every morning." She attempted a half-smile, her lips tremulous with the effort.
Callum's gaze settled on her. He recalled the missing year—but there were no headlines about the trial, the public scrutiny, and most of all, the shadow she carried back with her, thin around the eyes and heavy in the spirit. Quietly, he asked, "Why is there no news about your Valeguard Mission?"
"Because in our jurisdiction, during the investigative and procedural phases of a case, the dissemination of information is restricted and only permitted when essential to the case's resolution."
Callum nodded in understanding, "And your reason for taking law is?"
Sera sipped her tea, eyes drifting past the rain-flecked window.
"We're great in battle, at killing, at shooting enemies. However, we don't fully understand the laws that govern legal procedures had changed drastically. Unlike war, where strategy and guns can win the day, dragging Bara Saab and his men into the courtroom feels like walking through a maze of thorns. All that evidence, all that pain… and still, it's not enough for the law to decide on eternal punishment."
Her voice softened, haunted.
"We caught them in the act—saved truckloads of terrified teens. However, because the military had no procedure or framework sanctioned by the High Court, we also became suspects. Suddenly, human rights were turned against us—illegal detention, they said. Inhumane extraction of confessions. And it took us three lawyers to win the case."
She paused, bracing herself on memory's edge. "I remember sitting in that windowless briefing room, facing rows of men in starched uniforms who thought paperwork was a nuisance. I tried to explain to them—every missing signature was another child's fate. But they didn't listen. No one did."
A throwback crystallized: Sera, eyes stinging under cold fluorescence, gripped evidence as the prosecutor badgered her. They questioned protocol, chain of command, every margin of intent, while ignoring the blood under her fingernails. Each answer required moving another stone, again and again, up a hill that turned ever steeper.
That day, after winning the case, Sera had quietly stared at the courtroom—not in shame, but in acknowledgment of the fact that the power of the law could influence the authority she held. While the law could understand their duties, it would never redefine its jurisdiction for heroes.
"Looking back," she stated firmly to Callum, "My father was right; instead of joining the military early, I should have enrolled for a university to become a lawyer."
After Sera finished speaking, the room fell quiet.
Callum didn't respond right away. He just sat there, watching her, elbows resting on the edge of the table like he was weighing her words; he wasn't just listening, but feeling them too.
He reached for her hand on the table. This time, Sera didn't draw away. The rain tapped gently, insistent, sheltering their resolve.
Then softly he answered. "You did well, Sera."
She looked at him with eyes questioning his words.
"I mean it," he added with a firm tone. "Seeing you here, I know you did more than enough. And listening to how you found a meaningful resolution and still managed to stand your ground. You are a wise soldier."
Sera looked down, almost embarrassed. "It didn't feel like it," she muttered. "We didn't save everyone. And there were so many things I didn't know how to handle. I kept thinking… maybe if I had done things differently, we wouldn't have gotten dragged into a trial at all."
Callum reached across the table, not hesitating this time, and turned her hand over gently. His thumb moved lightly across her palm, grounding her.
"You weren't supposed to have all the answers," he said. "Fate somehow cruelly teaches us."
She didn't say anything, but her eyes glistened just a little.
Callum gave a slight shake of his head. "And I know your team never blames you, and if they ever did, it's because they do not have a broad mind like you.
She stared at him for a second, as if unsure what to do with his words. Then she whispered, "Thank you."
He offered a faint smile and squeezed her hand once before letting go. "Welcome, Mrs. Virell."
Outside, the rain had lightened. You could hear the soft drip of water like a melody trying to comfort a broken heart.
"I want to become a military lawyer," Sera murmured. With newfound certainty edging her voice, she explained, "Not to relive old battles—but to reshape the military system. So that we will never be twisted again, we will act with wisdom, with a true understanding of justice."
The grandeur of Avienne Hall framed their conversation, its grandeur both a gift and a reminder. Callum offered a tentative hope, "You are choosing a harder yet wiser shift."
But Sera only smiled wryly.
"Let's not call it harder. Maybe just… a smoother way. A chance to make something good out of staying here a little longer."
She gestured toward the quiet expanse around them, but what lingered in her words was something more profound—a calm pledge to try, however imperfectly.
Jonas reappeared at the threshold, ever observant. "Will you need anything else, Madam, Sir?" His loyalties, shaped by service, now bent instinctively toward Sera, seeing not only her scars, but the courage beneath them. She dismissed him with a gentle nod.
They moved through the estate, awkward in unpacking, forming a tentative rhythm of arranging and unboxing. Sera decided to rearrange the books in her study room. At the same time, Callum adjusted the furniture, always aiming to transform the house from a memorial to a sanctuary, from a museum to a place where laughter could ring loose and free.
As dusk spilled into the windows and rain softened its song, Sera's energy flagged. Papers pooled forgotten in her lap. "Did I tell you about Bara Saab's lawyer? He was intelligent and could always find loopholes in our statements."
Callum's reply was a soft, thoughtful whistle. "Lawyers can serve justice or deny it with their intelligence. But I hope you will never be like him one day."
Her smile flickered, pieced from pride and old sorrow. "I won't be."
That night, after a simple supper and amid the new walls and raw shadows, Marcus left.
Sera and Callum walked the sodden gardens together. The manor no longer seemed quite so daunting with each step they took alongside one another.
As they crossed the marble foyer and paused beneath the house's ancient archways, both sensed it: a loosening.
Perhaps with more time being together, they can begin to form a deeper connection and maybe even a family: not with instant understanding or perfect ease, but with two people open and hopeful, willing to be each other's shelter.
With every complicated conversation, every risk to trust.
As night deepened, they stepped into the darkness, not hand in hand, but with an acceptance of how their fate had become twisted.