Chapter Sixty-Nine: Echoes of Home
The house stood at the corner of a cobbled lane in the heart of the capital—modest, with ivy creeping up its stone walls and flowers blooming in chipped clay pots along the windowsills. It felt too warm, too real, too untouched by the chaos Kael and Lira knew from their world.
Andrew stood still for a moment at the gate, his fingers brushing the wrought-iron handle like he wasn't sure he should open it. Kael watched him closely. The Shadow King, the immortal being they'd come to fear and fight, now looked… human. Not in body—his youthful face still bore no sign of time—but in spirit. There was a tremble in his breath as he finally stepped forward.
Inside, the smell of bread baking and the faint scent of lavender soap filled the air.
"Andrew?" a voice called from the kitchen, soft, surprised.
Andrew's mother entered first. She was a woman of grace, her dark brown hair tied back, a worn apron around her waist, and flour dusting her hands. The moment she saw him, she froze. Her eyes, the same sharp green as his, welled with tears.
"Andrew… you came back." She rushed forward, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
Kael looked at Lira, whose hand instinctively found his. Neither of them had seen this version of Andrew before—quiet, caught in emotion, unsure of what to say. He hugged his mother back, holding her longer than a simple reunion should've allowed. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of home.
His father entered the room a moment later, older than his wife but with a solid frame and steely eyes that softened when he saw his son. "Three years in the woods, and you don't even send a letter?" he barked, but the corners of his mouth twitched with a smile. "Come here, boy."
Andrew chuckled—a sound Kael had never heard from him. It was light, unburdened. "Sorry, Father," he said as he crossed the room and clasped the man's hand before being pulled into a quick, tight embrace.
When Andrew finally stepped back, his voice regained a bit of its edge. "I brought some friends with me."
He gestured behind him. "This is Kael, my best friend, and Lira, Kael's… girlfriend," he added with a playful smirk that made Kael raise an eyebrow. Lira blushed slightly but didn't correct him.
Andrew's mother smiled warmly. "Well, any friend of Andrew's is welcome in this house. Come, you must be starving."
They sat at a worn wooden table in the dining room, plates already being filled with warm bread, butter, and scrambled eggs. It was humble, but the kind of meal that settled in your chest like a reminder of peace.
"So," Andrew said, breaking a piece of bread, "what's been happening around the capital lately? I've been in the woods for a while… hunting, training. Haven't had much news."
His father raised an eyebrow. "You haven't heard? The tension's been rising again. The council's losing control over the southern districts, and that noble family—what were they called?—the Esharins, yes, they're stirring talk of rebellion. People are angry. There's talk of splitting the realm if things don't settle soon."
Andrew nodded slowly, hiding the flicker in his eyes. He already knew. The rebellion that would soon ignite the continent was brewing, and the younger version of himself, the one from this timeline, was likely somewhere, preparing to spark it.
Lira and Kael listened silently, soaking in every word.
"And what of Andreas?" Andrew asked.
His father's expression darkened slightly. "Still in power. Still watching everyone from that marble tower of his. It's like he knows something's coming."
"He always knows," Andrew muttered, barely above a whisper.
Kael finally spoke. "It must be hard… living under someone like that."
Andrew's mother nodded. "It is. But we've gotten used to it. People survive. We always do."
Lira leaned forward. "You raised Andrew here? In this house?"
Her tone was soft, curious.
His mother smiled. "Yes. He used to run barefoot through the streets, always getting into trouble. We thought he'd end up a baker like his uncle, not disappearing into the woods for years."
Andrew chuckled, his eyes distant. "A lot changed."
They finished breakfast in relative calm. Kael and Lira answered questions politely—where they were from, how they met, if they had family. Andrew didn't correct his parents when they assumed he was their son—perhaps, in this brief moment, he just wanted to belong again.
When they left the table, the sun was beginning to crest over the tiled roofs of Dream Land's capital. The streets were waking up—children playing, carts rolling, the scent of fruit and herbs filling the air.
Andrew stopped at the doorway, looking back one last time at the only place that ever felt like home. "I needed this," he said under his breath.
Kael didn't respond, but in that moment, he saw the boy Andrew might've been—the one who didn't need to become a king of shadows.