That afternoon, after serving lunch that showcased his best dishes—wild game stew, fresh-baked bread with herbs, berry tarts with honey glaze—Ethan began packing his belongings for tomorrow's departure. He had little to take: some spare clothing, the knives Garrick had given him for training, a small pouch of coins he had saved, and a locket containing a lock of auburn hair.
As he folded his cook's apron and placed it neatly on his bed, a soft knock sounded at his door. Opening it, he found the hallway filled with children—not just the youngest ones who often sought him out for comfort, but all of Rivermoor's orphans, from little Aiden to Ling himself, standing awkwardly at the back of the group.
They had come to say goodbye, their faces a mixture of sadness and understanding. Ling stepped forward first, offering a carefully wrapped package.
"Dried fruits and smoked meat," he explained, his amber eyes serious. "Enough for at least a week, if you're careful." A small smile tugged at his lips. "Take care, Uncle. We know you'll find your wife."
Lily joined him, pressing a small cloth pouch into Ethan's hand. "Healing herbs," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Mix them with water for wounds, burn them for smoke if you can't sleep." Her eyes brimmed with tears that she blinked away fiercely. "We'll miss your cooking, but we know this journey is important for you."
One by one, the children approached, each offering something—a small token, a word of encouragement, a hesitant hug. Grace, one of the youngest, couldn't maintain the composure of her older peers. She broke into full sobs as she wrapped her tiny arms around Ethan's waist.
"Uncle, I don't want you to go..." she managed between hiccupping breaths, her face pressed against his stomach. "But I know you need to find your wife," she added in a broken voice that tore at his heart.
Ethan knelt to her level, gently stroking her hair as he had done countless times when comforting her after nightmares. "Don't worry, Grace. I'll be back," he promised, his voice soft but firm with conviction. "And when I return, we'll throw another big feast, even bigger than today's lunch."
Her tears slowed as she looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. "Promise?"
"I promise," he said, sealing the vow with a gentle tap on her nose that made her giggle despite her tears.
Aiden stood nearby, his thin shoulders squared in a brave posture that couldn't quite hide the trembling of his lower lip. Despite being only five years old, Aiden showed remarkable talent in combat training, his small size belying surprising speed and precision in his movements.
"Uncle, please come back safely," the boy said, his voice breaking slightly despite his obvious effort to control it. "I'll keep training hard while you're gone. I want to show you how much stronger I'll be when you return."
Ethan rose to his feet and placed a hand on Aiden's shoulder, feeling the developing muscles beneath his palm. "I promise I'll come back safely, Aiden," he said solemnly. "Keep training, keep learning—your dedication will make you exceptional one day."
The boy nodded earnestly, his determined expression making him seem older than his five years.
From the edge of the gathered children, Anna watched the exchanges with a touch of shyness. Though typically reserved, she stepped forward with more confidence than usual, her healing abilities having given her a respected place among the orphans despite her quiet nature.
"Uncle..." she began, her voice soft but clear as she met his eyes briefly before glancing away. "I made this for you." She handed him a small vial of glowing liquid. "My strongest healing potion. It should work on any wound, even poison." She offered a quick, shy smile. "Be careful out there. Come back to us when you find what you're looking for."
Touched by her thoughtfulness, Ethan smiled warmly. "Thank you, Anna. This will be invaluable."He carefully tucked the vial into his inner pocket, closest to his heart. "Your healing gift is precious—keep developing it while I'm gone."
Anna nodded, stepping back among the others with a faint blush coloring her cheeks at the praise.
Conspicuously absent from the farewell gathering was Grey. The teenager had disappeared after their duel, his pride still smarting from the defeat. Ethan had hoped to speak with him before leaving, but perhaps it was better this way. Some wounds needed time to heal on their own.
***
As evening approached, Ethan prepared a final dinner for the orphanage. The atmosphere was subdued despite his efforts to maintain a cheerful mood. When the meal was finished and the dishes cleaned, Ethan slipped away quietly, needing to make one more important visit before his departure in the morning.
The sun was beginning its descent as he made his way to the ruins of what had once been his home. This was the time of day when Emberlyn would typically return from her hunting expeditions, her silhouette backlit by the golden light of sunset as she walked up the path to their door.
The blackened timbers stood like skeletal fingers against the darkening sky, a monument to all he had lost in a single night of chaos and fire.
Standing before the burnt shell of the house he had shared with his wife, Ethan closed his eyes, allowing memories to wash over him—memories of her laugh echoing through rooms now reduced to ash, of meals shared at a table now consumed by flames, of quiet evenings and whispered promises of forever.
He could almost see her walking toward him now, her familiar gait, the way she would remove her gloves as she approached, the smile that would light her face when she spotted him waiting. The evening breeze carried the scent of woodsmoke from distant hearths, so similar yet so different from the acrid smell that had filled his nostrils on that terrible night.
"I will become stronger," he whispered, his voice carrying his oath to the wind. "I will find you, my love, and we will be together again." His voice trembled with the enormity of what lay ahead, but there was no hesitation in his words.
The sunset painted the ruins in shades of amber and gold, reminding him of the warmth that had once filled this place. Ethan chose to take it as a sign—a message of hope carried on the wind itself.
"Wait for me," he said, opening his eyes to gaze one last time at what remained of their shared past. "I will come back."
Night had fallen by the time he returned to Rivermoor, the stars overhead bearing silent witness to his promise.
***
The next morning dawned clear and crisp, the early spring air carrying the scent of renewal. Ethan rose before the sun, his few possessions already packed and ready. He moved through the quiet kitchen one last time, preparing a simple breakfast for the orphanage before his departure.
As the children ate, subdued despite his efforts to maintain a cheerful atmosphere, Ethan found himself memorizing details he had taken for granted—the way sunlight streamed through the eastern windows, catching dust motes in golden beams; the worn smoothness of the wooden table beneath his palms; the familiar creak of the floorboard near the pantry.
When the meal was finished and the dishes cleaned, Ethan shouldered his pack and stepped outside, finding Garrick waiting to accompany him to the edge of the forest. To his surprise, the children had gathered in the courtyard, forming a small semicircle near the gate. All of them—from the youngest toddlers to the oldest teenagers—stood waiting in the soft morning light.
Grace clutched a small bundle of wildflowers she must have gathered at dawn, their petals still wet with dew. Lily held the hand of a younger child who rubbed sleep from his eyes. Aiden stood at attention, his small frame rigid in a warrior's stance Ethan had taught him. Anna dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief while trying to maintain her composure.
"We wanted to see you off properly," Ling explained, stepping forward. "One last goodbye."
Ethan's throat constricted as he looked at these children—these survivors who had somehow become his family during his time at Rivermoor. He had come here broken, seeking only to heal enough to continue his search. Instead, he'd found purpose among these young souls who had lost as much as he had.
Little Grace broke from the group, running to him with her wildflowers extended. "So you don't forget us," she whispered, her bottom lip trembling as she pressed the modest bouquet into his hand.
Ethan knelt and gathered her into his arms, the flowers crushed gently between them. "I could never forget you," he promised, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Not any of you."
One by one, the children approached for final embraces. Some, like Aiden, tried to maintain their composure with solemn nods that dissolved into fierce hugs. Others, like Anna, whispered additional instructions for the healing potions she'd given him. The youngest ones clung to his legs, reluctant to let go.
As he and Garrick finally turned to leave, a chorus of voices rose behind them.
"Goodbye, Uncle Ethan!"
"Come back soon!"
"We'll be waiting!"
"Don't forget your promise!"
Ethan turned one last time to see them waving—a sea of small hands fluttering like birds' wings in the morning light. Some children had climbed onto benches or crates for a better view; the smallest ones were hoisted onto older children's shoulders. Lily had begun to sob openly, while Ling tried unsuccessfully to maintain his stoic expression.
For a moment, Ethan couldn't move, the sight etching itself permanently into his memory. Then, with a deep breath, he raised his hand in a final wave.
"I'll return," he called, his voice carrying across the courtyard with unwavering certainty. "Take care of each other until then."
He watched as Lily placed a comforting hand on Grace's shoulder, as Anna distributed handkerchiefs to the tearful younger children, as Ling organized the littlest ones into a line to head back inside. Even in their grief, they were supporting one another—a family forged through shared hardship.
Ethan turned away, blinking rapidly against the sting in his eyes. Beside him, Garrick walked in respectful silence, allowing him the space to compose himself as they traversed the path that led away from Rivermoor.
At the boundary where Greenhaven Forest met the wider world, Garrick paused, turning to face his pupil one last time. "Remember, Ethan," he said, his voice gruff with emotion he wouldn't openly express. "You have extraordinary potential. Never doubt yourself."
Ethan nodded, his throat tight with gratitude for all this man had taught him. "Thank you, Garrick. I won't let you down."
The old hunter clasped his shoulder firmly. "I know you won't." He stepped back, gesturing toward the road that wound away from the forest. "Your path lies there. Follow it to wherever it leads."
With a final nod of respect, Ethan turned away from the only safe haven he had known since losing everything.
With greater resolve than ever before, Ethan began his journey. Each step took him further from what had been and closer to what might be—a future where he and his wife could rebuild what they had lost, not just in timber and stone but in shared moments and trust.
The road stretched before him, leading toward distant mountains and unknown challenges. But in his heart, Ethan carried the strength he had gained at Rivermoor—not just the combat skills Garrick had taught him or the mastery of his telekinetic abilities, but the deeper strength that came from finding a place to belong, even temporarily, after losing everything.
With the teleportation knife secured at his belt and his other weapons distributed about his person, Ethan walked away from Greenhaven Forest with purpose in his stride. The vast world spread before him, full of dangers but also full of possibilities.
In his heart, he carried an unshakeable certainty: no matter how far he traveled or what obstacles he faced, his path would eventually lead back to his wife. His love for her burned brighter than any flame that had consumed their home, stronger than any monster he might face, more enduring than any hardship that lay ahead.
With that love guiding him like a compass pointing true north, Ethan stepped into the unknown, ready to become the man worthy of standing beside the S-rank hunter his wife had always been—the man capable of finding her and rekindling what they had lost.