The long journey home felt strangely short.
The golden days of their beach paradise lingered like a dream —but as the estate gates came into view, reality settled gently over them once again.
Their home awaited —grand and welcoming, its stone towers bathed in the soft afternoon sun.
Aren sat at the front of the convoy, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, the ridiculous flamingo shirt finally traded for a simple black one.
He watched the gates open with a quiet smile.
They had returned —not to battlefields, not to politics —but to the place they had built together with laughter and love.
Breakfast the next morning bloomed with familiar warmth.
The great dining hall echoed with soft chatter:
Mira stacking six slices of toast and proudly declaring it a "warrior's breakfast."
Elara methodically planning her training schedule between bites.
Alice (who had stayed the night with them, refusing to leave Mira's side) earnestly recording her "Beach Adventure Chronicles."
The adults moved easily among them —Selene pouring coffee, Sarah sharing sweet pastries, Arthur and Lucien trading half-jokes about royal schedules.
It was as if the ocean's peace had come home with them.
Even Aren, usually a silent observer at meals, found himself smiling more easily.
After breakfast, the rhythm of life resumed.
Training at 4 PM sharp.
The estate's training grounds welcomed them back like an old friend.
Under Aren's watchful golden gaze, the family lined up:
Mira wobbling in her stances but determined.
Elara sharpening every movement with a visible fire in her young eyes.
Alice cautious but methodical, shadowing Elara's steps.
Their little feet stamped into the dirt, sweating, gasping —but never giving up.
And above them all,Aren stood —arms crossed behind his back, aura hidden, heart full.
Not a general drilling soldiers.
A father forging dreams.
Meanwhile, Darian — away from the group — trained separately under Aren's direct supervision.
His task was different:not brute strength,not flashy techniques —but subtlety.
Cultivating energy while living — breathing, moving, acting.
It was a skill said to belong only to transcendent beings —but Aren believed in his son.
And now, after the break the vacation had given his spirit,Darian was improving.
Slowly.
Steadily.
The flow of qi around him grew a little more stable each day —his movements more natural, his aura beginning to hum faintly even as he worked.
Aren saw it.
And, silently, he was proud.
After training, the estate pulsed with quiet life.
Lyra, who had often split her attention between family and court life, found herself drawn to Mira more and more.
She spent afternoons now in the gardens,teaching Mira how to braid flowers into crowns,listening to her wild stories about ocean monsters and pirate adventures.
Lyra's heart ached with fierce love she hadn't known she was missing.
Mira — full of light and mischief — healed parts of her she didn't even realize had grown cold.
Elara, meanwhile, threw herself into training with almost frightening intensity.
While Mira laughed and tumbled,Elara practiced her stances longer than anyone else,her small hands blistering, her face set with determination.
She wasn't chasing power.
She was chasing someone.
Chasing Aren.
Her grandfather — her hero.
Aren saw it too.
He corrected her gently, never scolding —only guiding.
"You don't need to catch up to me," he told her once, kneeling to look her in the eyes.
"You need only surpass yourself."
Elara blinked at him —and nodded, solemn and silent.
As his family laughed, grew, and healed —Aren prepared.
Quietly.Secretly.
Documents passed through his hands — coded messages from Arthur, reports on troop movements, diplomatic murmurs across the races.
He memorized them all, burned them to ash with a thought, and never let a shadow cross his golden gaze when Mira leapt into his arms.
He wove invisible protections around the estate.He carved hidden wards into the walls and gates.He reinforced the training grounds with ancient spells that even the other Transcendents had forgotten.
And still —he smiled at breakfast.He laughed during training.He carried Mira on his shoulders after dinner.
Because Aren Vale had made a vow.
His family would not suffer.
Not while he still stood.
When the world slept,Aren stood alone at the highest balcony of the estate.
The moon hung low over the hills,and the sea of stars above seemed to whisper of ancient promises.
Footsteps — soft and familiar — approached behind him.
Selene, clad in a simple, flowing nightgown, slipped silently into his arms without a word.
He closed his embrace around her instinctively,drawing her into the steady warmth of his body.
For a long while, they stood there like that —no words, no movement, only the breeze whispering past them.
But slowly, Selene's delicate brow furrowed.
Her ear pressed to his chest,she heard it.
The heartbeat.
Fast.Loud.Unrelenting.
Like a war drum muffled beneath mortal skin.
Selene lifted her head slightly, frowning.
"Aren," she murmured, voice soft, "your heart... it's racing."
He stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Then, chuckling low, he kissed her forehead lightly and said,"I suppose even with all the power I command, calming my own heart is beyond me."
His voice was warm.Light.Almost teasing.
But Selene knew him —knew him like the tide knows the moon.
She lifted her violet eyes to meet his golden ones, searching.
There, for just a breath,the mask slipped.
A flash of vulnerability.Of fear.Of love so vast it ached.
Aren exhaled slowly.
And in the deep, private darkness between them, he confessed.
"I laugh. I smile. I wear peace like armor..."he whispered against her hair,"but inside, love... anxiety eats at me every second."
Selene's hands tightened around his waist.
"I cannot help it," Aren said, voice low and rough."I fear for you. For our children. For our grandchildren.Even when nothing threatens you...my mind invents a thousand disasters.A thousand ways the world could steal your smiles."
He swallowed thickly.
"I would tear down the heavens for you.But the future... the future is the one enemy I cannot fight before it strikes."
Selene's eyes glistened, but she said nothing —only pressed her lips gently over his heart.
No promises.No false reassurances.
Only love.
Only understanding.
Only the silent vow that whatever came, they would face it together.
They stood that way for a long time,under a sky of endless stars,a man who feared nothing —except losing the ones he loved —and the woman who made even his fears worth enduring.
The days passed —not with dread, but with life.
Each sunrise saw new laughter,each sunset deeper smiles.
Aren let them have these days.
He let himself have them too.
Because soon —the winds would change.
And when they did,he would be ready.