Morning arrived quietly.
The forest was calm, wrapped in soft light, as if it understood that this was a moment not meant to be disturbed. Anne stood just beyond the edge of the land's protective barrier, her cloak resting lightly against her form. The magic behind her pulsed once—then settled, sealing itself as if acknowledging her departure.
She should have felt relief.
Instead, there was a strange heaviness in her chest.
It was unfamiliar. Unwelcome. And yet… not unpleasant.
So this is what it feels like, she thought, to leave something behind.
Andre's words echoed in her mind, clear and unguarded.
"Make sure you come back. I can't quite imagine my life without you anymore. And I'm certain Cale will miss you too… and your training. If that moment ever comes—this will always be your home."
Anne clenched her fingers slightly at her side.
She had faced battlefields soaked in blood. Stood before Demon Lords without flinching. Yet the weight of those words lingered far longer than any blade ever had.
She took a step forward.
Then—
"Anne!"
She turned.
Andre was running toward her, a small wooden box clutched in his hand.
She stopped instinctively, surprise flashing across her face. Her heart skipped—then began to beat faster than she could control. For a moment, she didn't know how to react. She had not expected this.
Andre slowed to a stop in front of her and held out the box.
"I almost forgot," he said, a little out of breath. "Please take this. Let it be a gift for your father."
Anne stared at the box.
"Kings have always played this game," Andre added with a faint smile.
Her hands trembled as she accepted it.
"T-thank you," she replied softly.
The memory came to her immediately.
That first night.
Andre shaping a strange board using creation magic. Pieces carved like monsters—black on one side, white on the other. The way he had patiently explained the rules, moving the pieces with quiet enthusiasm.
Chess.
Though he had insisted on calling it Demon Lord Chess, claiming it sounded more appropriate.
"Teach it to him," Andre said. "They say games like these lead to good conversations. Especially between family."
Anne hesitated.
"I… I can't accept something like this," she began.
She never finished the sentence.
Andre stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
Anne froze.
For the first time in her life, she had no idea how to respond.
She felt the warmth of him—his strength, steady and real. The solid presence of a man who had offered her shelter without fear, trust without condition. His muscular frame pressed gently against hers, not possessive, not demanding—simply there.
The wind stirred.
A warm breeze passed between them, lifting Anne's long silver hair and carrying it lightly across her shoulders, as if the world itself wished to remember this moment.
"Thank you," Andre said quietly. "For everything."
Anne's heart was pounding.
Slowly—hesitantly—she raised her arms and returned the embrace.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you."
They stepped back and bowed to one another, the gesture simple, sincere.
Then, to Andre's surprise, Anne unfolded her demon wings.
Dark, elegant, powerful.
With a single beat, she rose into the air.
Andre watched her take flight, her form growing smaller against the sky until she became nothing more than a silhouette drifting toward the horizon.
"…I figured a Demon Lord's daughter would be able to fly," he muttered with a quiet smile.
He turned and walked back toward the house.
For the first time, it was truly silent.
"Well," he said to himself, straightening his posture. "Cale and Fang are training. I can't let my own son surpass me."
He headed toward the training arena.
And somewhere far away, Anne carried more than just a wooden box with her.
She carried something she had never expected to find.
A place worth returning to.
Anne kept flyng… then stopped.
For a brief moment, she felt it — a pull she had never known before.
If I don't look back, she thought, it will be easier.
Her fingers tightened slightly at her side.
But if I do…
She knew the answer to that thought and let it fade before it could take shape. Some paths could only be walked by not turning around.
Slowly, she exhaled — steady, controlled — and straightened her back.