The night was quiet and still. Cold air whispered against their skin, raising goosebumps. Miraya held Ronin close, shielding him from the chill as if he were still a toddler.
She glanced down, her eyes softening. "Once we're through this forest, we're home. Are you alright, my star?"
Ronin yawned, nuzzling against her shoulder. "Better than alright. I'm perfect when I'm with you."
Miraya chuckled, pulling him closer. "Trying to butter me up? It's working."
After a long walk through the oppressive dark of the Whispering Forest, they finally emerged into an open field. The first slivers of dawn painted the sky in shades of rose and gold.
Miraya looked at Ronin, who was breathing heavily. "Can you keep going?"
Ronin leaned against a tree trunk, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Can we rest? Just for a minute? Please, Mom."
Miraya sat beside him, a tired but happy sigh escaping her. "Anything for my son."
---
Arcane Kingdom. Hirata Estate.
Usama paced his study like a caged beast, his footsteps thunderous in the tense silence. A row of sorcerers stood at rigid attention, their eyes fixed on their lord's tormented face.
He clutched his head, muttering to the walls. "No... where did she go? A full day and night passed. This is my fault. All my fault."
The Grand Elder placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Lord Hirata. You spoke from reason. But a mother's heart hears a different truth. She will return. She is strong."
A maiden burst into the room, grasping for air. "My Lord! Lord Hirata!"
Usama's head snapped up. "What is it?"
"Lady Miraya," the maiden panted, steadying herself. "She has returned."
Usama was on his feet in an instant, a wave of pure relief washing over him. "Thank the ancestors. Where is she?"
He rushed into the grand corridor. And there she was, walking toward him, her steps slow but sure. She stopped a few paces away.
Usama's eyes drank in her face, his voice thick with remorse. "Miraya... I am so sorry. What I said... please, forgive me."
Miraya's expression was weary but calm. "I accept your apology. And I am sorry, too. I spoke in anger. I never meant to hurt you."
A relieved smile broke across Usama's face. "It's forgotten. You're home. That's all that matters. Just... please, never do that again."
Miraya nodded. Then, she said, her voice dropping to something softer, more profound. "Usama... I found the missing piece of our family."
Usama blinked, confused. "Missing piece?"
Miraya gestured with her head toward the shadow behind her.
A boy stepped forward. Messy dark hair. Eyes of a startling, clear blue. And an aura—familiar yet vastly changed, thrumming with a power that made the air buzz.
Usama's gaze flickered from the boy to Miraya and back. His mind refused to process it. "Who... who is this?"
Miraya's smile was one of pure, tearful triumph. "Look at him, Usama. It's our son. It's Ronin."
Usama's soul seemed to lurch within his chest. A decade of hollow grief was shattered, replaced by a surge of joy so violent he thought his heart might stop.
He reached out a trembling hand. "R-Ronin? Is it... truly you?"
Before his fingers could brush his son's cheek, Ronin took a sharp step back, his eyes clouded with wariness and confusion.
Usama straightened, his joy tinged with sudden pain. "What's wrong? I'm your father. Usama. Don't you remember me?"
He moved to embrace him.
WHOOSH.
Ronin vanished in a swirl of sky-blue spatial particles, reappearing a safe distance away, his gaze fixed on Usama with the caution of a stranger.
Usama's face turned into pure, wounded perplexity. "Why are you running from me?"
Ronin shook his head, his voice small. "I... I need some time alone. Please."
Miraya watched them both in silence, letting the tension stretch for one fragile heartbeat. She stepped in, taking Ronin's hand with a dramatic flourish. "Alright, alright! The great Ronin Hirata has just made his triumphant return! Give the prince some space. His royal highness requires a bath and a moment to process his epic homecoming."
Ronin burst out laughing, the tension breaking. "Mom! Your acting is terrible! Fine, fine. Where's the bathroom?"
Miraya nodded to a waiting maiden. "She will show you."
Ronin eyed the maiden and gave a low, appreciative whistle. "Okie-dokie. Lead the way, oh fair guide."
He sauntered off after her, his footsteps fading down the hall.
Miraya moved to Usama's side, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Give him time. A decade is a long time. He didn't accept me at first, either. He'll come around."
---
On the other side of the estate, Ronin sank into a vast, sunken bath up to his shoulders. He let out a long, shuddering exhale, as if he'd been holding his breath for ten years.
"Finally," he muttered, his muscles unknotting in the hot, perfumed water. "Heaven..."
A maiden stood discreetly by, a warm towel in her hands. "Did you require anything, my prince?"
Ronin opened one eye, a glimmer of his usual flirtatious charm surfacing. "Yes."
She bowed. "What is your wish?"
"You," he said, then immediately waved a dismissive hand, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Forget I said that. Could you just... lay out my clothes? And maybe stop staring? I'm kind of naked in here."
The maiden stepped back, bowing deeply to hide her own smile. "My apologies, Prince. I will prepare your attire at once."
After his relaxing bath, Ronin stood on a balcony, gazing out at the staggering expanse of Hirata Estate—sprawling gardens, soaring towers, bustling courtyards. His eyes sparkled with genuine awe.
"Wow. This place is insane." A grin spread across his face. "Time for a proper investigation. It is my home, after all."
He became a whirlwind of curiosity. He peeked into the maidens' wing, earning a few startled giggles. He sprinted through a garden so vast it dwarfed the Whispering Forest.
From a terrace, Miraya watched him, a soft loving smile on her lips. "There he is. Still curious. Still full of life..."
Usama finished her thought, stepping beside her. "...and, still chaos incarnate."
Miraya giggled. "Well, he is your son."
As the sun began its descent, painting the estate in breathtaking oranges and purples, Ronin found himself on the highest balcony of the main tower. The view of fading warmth stole his breath.
"Whoa..." he whispered. "This is the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen."
A deep, familiar voice spoke from behind.
"Enjoying the view, son?"
Usama stepped beside him, leaning on the railing. "Your mother and I used to watch the sunset from here. We'd argue about what you'd be like, back when you were just a hope in your mother's womb."
Ronin didn't answer, keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Usama knelt, bringing himself to Ronin's eye level. He placed his hands on the boy's broad shoulders—shoulders hardened by a decade of relentless training.
His voice was gentle, laced with a father's sorrow. "What's wrong, Ronin? Did I do something wrong? Do you... resent me?"
Ronin finally looked at him. The defensive wall in his eyes crumbled, revealing the lost boy beneath. "I don't hate you. I just... don't remember you. Not like I remember Mom. It feels... awkward. I'm sorry." He swallowed. "I do love you, Dad."
Usama pulled him into a tight, crushing embrace. "I love you too, my son. More than you can ever know."
"Aww. Such a touching father-son moment."
Miraya leaned in the doorframe, a playful grin on her face. "Am I interrupting?"
Usama raised an eyebrow without letting go of Ronin. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Since 'enjoying the view'." She said, her tone light.
Ronin matches her grin, slipping back into his confident persona. "Well, this is embarrassing. Not very dignified for the mighty clan head, is it?"
Usama released him and gave him a light, affectionate shove. "Quiet, you little rascal."
Ronin rubbed his arm, feigning injury. "Ouch! So strict! I was just lightening the mood."
Usama straightened, his expression turning thoughtfully serious. "Ronin, may I ask something?"
Ronin agreed instantly. "Sure, Dad. Shoot."
"What have you learned in those ten years?" Usama asked, his tone measured. "Your energy... it feels different. Potent, but foreign."
Ronin's palms grew damp. "Oh, you know... sorcery. The usual stuff."
"Show me," Usama said gently. "A simple Arcane sphere."
Ronin swallowed hard. "Easy."
He concentrated, extending his palm. Faint golden particles swirled, coalescing into a perfect, bright sphere of pure Arcane Energy. For a second, it hovered, beautiful and controlled.
Then, an old, ingrained habit betrayed him.
The golden light twisted, sickening, inverting into a violent, humming sphere of aggressive violet energy.
Cursed Energy.
Ronin jerked his arm behind his back, a shameless, lopsided grin plastered on his face. "Oops? My bad. One more try... please?"
Usama's eyes narrowed for a heartbeat, before his knowledge surfaced.
"Cursed Sorcery," Usama said, his voice calm but edged with understanding. He crossed his arms, watching his son not with anger, but with deep analysis. "You learned a unique path."
Miraya's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with concern. "Necromancy? Is he... is he alright?"
"He is perfectly fine," Usama assured her, his gaze never leaving Ronin. "He learned the arts of another land. I do not see their ways as a curse. But..."
A slow, knowing smirk touched his lips. "...it is clear our son has a gap in his education. He must learn the arts of his homeland."
Ronin scratched his head, bewildered. "What does that mean?"
Usama's chuckle was low and final. "It means tomorrow, your mother and I are enrolling you in the most prestigious institution in Eldrya. The Academy of Arcane Arts and Ancient Sorceries."
Ronin's face crumbled into pure, unadulterated horror. "School? No! Absolutely NOT! I hate school!"
Usama turned, glanced over his shoulder with an expression that brooked no argument. "Like it or not, it has been decided."
---
He had returned to his family.
The lost prince was home among his people.
But his days of carefree exploration were over.
Tomorrow, a new chapter would begin at the academy gates—and with it, an end to his golden days of freedom.