The morning after the battle, Celdoras lay quiet under a pale, healing sky. Smoke thinned above broken rooftops and emptied squares. Guild banners stirred faintly from the highest stones as adventurers and soldiers moved through the streets with planks and fresh mortar, rebuilding with steady, purposeful hands.
Ethan and the Pack joined the Guild’s recovery efforts early that morning, gathering at the Dome to help with salvage and search for lingering magic. For a while, Ethan lost himself in the rhythm of clearing debris, checking half-buried glyphs, and quietly comforting survivors who came looking for closure or lost possessions.
Pixie and Kip darted along the edges, hunting for anything shiny or edible. Moose and Buster shifted stones and broken beams, careful not to disturb the carved runes that still glowed faintly beneath the dust. Amelia glided through the half-light, nose twitching as she traced the last threads of old magic, while Lyra and Senna marked anything worth saving with bits of blue ribbon.
It was Ethan’s boot that finally struck something hard in the rubble. He knelt, scraping away dust and burnt straw until his fingers found the edge of a jagged fragment. The stone pulsed faint blue-white, etched with twisted runes and pitted from heat.
As soon as Ethan picked it up, a faint hum ran through the bond—subtle but impossible to miss. Moose stepped closer, brow furrowed. “What did you find?” he rumbled.
Ethan shook his head, turning the fragment over. “Not sure. But it’s… important.”
He passed it to Lyra, who turned it in her hands, her eyes glowing faintly with appraisal magic.
Lyra frowned, expression sharpening. “It’s a map fragment. Tied to powerful magic—and to the same corruption Halvaric tried to spread.”
Ethan weighed the fragment in his palm, a flicker of resolve passing through him. “Another problem for the road.”
Moose nodded, eyes steady. “Or maybe a key to the rest.”
They finished the morning together, and by the time they returned to Lantern Row, the city already felt lighter—the work of rebuilding visible in every cleaned doorstep and mended wall.
By midafternoon, after Guild debriefs, council meetings, healing checks, and a round of Mara’s stew, Commander Renard appeared at the Silverthorns’ inn, the Pack clustered close. Renard’s armor was freshly polished, his voice all business.
“Ethan Cross,” he called, extending a rolled parchment sealed with royal wax. “His Majesty formally summons you to the Royal Capital, Aldenreach. This is an official directive; attendance is mandatory. The imperial barge leaves in two days. Use the time well.”
Ethan turned the summons over in his hand, letting the weight of it settle. He looked to the Pack, nodded once, and knew what needed to be done.
That afternoon, Ethan and the Pack walked out to the edge of Lantern Row, where the half-built homestead still waited—a memory of a place that almost became home. Ethan paused at the anchor stone, letting his hand rest on the smooth surface. With a word and a rush of mana, he collapsed the anchor, the structure folding in on itself, everything safely stored. The cooldown would just barely reset in time for the journey north.
Moose lingered at the boundary, his big head bowed in quiet thought. “It’s strange,” he said softly. “That inn felt more like home than anywhere we’ve been. I’m going to miss them.”
The next two days blurred by in a tangle of preparations, goodbyes, and attempts to soak in every familiar detail.
Ethan helped Jorrin shore up the inn’s porch rail and hauled up barrels from the cellar for Mara’s last feast. He lost more than one morning to paperwork with Mabel, who made a sport of sliding council forms and extra sheets for “creative job titles” under his elbow, cackling each time he signed something without reading the fine print.
Ed met Ethan at Circle Line to check over his gear and, after a moment’s awkward silence, handed him a pouch of Bits and Pieces. “You’ve got a place here, always. Don’t forget it.” Sam hovered close the whole time, trying to memorize every detail, asking the Pack for stories, and sneaking treats to Pixie and Buster under the counter.
Durgan caught Ethan outside the merchant quarter as he arranged last-minute supplies for the journey north. “Don’t let the big city chew you up, lad,” Durgan said, voice low and even. “And don’t let anyone treat the Pack like baggage—they’re worth ten of any court escort. You did right by a lot of people here. If you ever need honest work or a place to land, you know how to find me.” He held out his hand for a brief, solid shake—rough but honest. “Bring them all back safe, eh?”
Most hours, though, belonged to the Pack and the Silverthorns. Buster begged for snacks and got them. Pixie raced Tessa and Kip down the halls, and Amelia let Tessa drag her up to the rooftop to watch the sunrise. Lyra and Gwenna checked travel gear and lists. Tomlin, never far from Moose, clung to his leg and nuzzled into the thick fur every chance he got.
On the last night, Mara hosted a meal for everyone—Pack, family, neighbors, and any Guild allies who still lingered. The table groaned under bread, cheese, Mara’s stews, and a mountain of fruit. Tessa and Kip staged an impromptu performance for the Pack, and even Mabel managed to wrangle a few jokes out of Aldric before announcing that, yes, he was finally hers.
When departure morning arrived, the docks buzzed like a festival. Mara pressed food into Ethan’s arms—fresh bread, hard cheese, a sealed jar of preserves—and scolded him to eat and not let Pixie wander too close to city markets. Jorrin shook Ethan’s hand, then pulled him into a crushing hug. “Don’t let anyone push you around up there. And if you see any guild officials selling insurance, run.”
Just before boarding, Ethan knelt by the Silverthorn kids and beckoned them close. He pressed a gold Bit into each of their palms—Kip, Senna, Tessa, and even Tomlin. “Spend it on something you want, not just what you need,” he told them, trying to look stern and only half succeeding. “And remember, don’t let your parents find out how much you’ve got all at once.”
Kip’s eyes went wide, Senna gasped, Tessa clutched hers like a sacred relic, and Tomlin—without hesitation—stuffed his directly into his mouth.
Mara saw and let out a horrified shout. “Ethan Cross! He’s not supposed to eat that!”
Ethan only laughed, but made sure to fish the Bit out of Tomlin’s mouth before the toddler could swallow it.
He stood, heart caught between pride and longing, watching as the Silverthorns herded the kids (and their “treasure”) back from the water’s edge.
Mabel elbowed to the front, waving an official slip of parchment. “Before anyone gets too weepy—let’s settle a bet! Aldric and I are officially engaged! After months of me wearing him down and negotiating, he finally said yes.”
She raised her hand—ring already in place—and made Aldric show his.
“Paperwork’s filed, council’s notified, rings are on. If we can wrangle leave, we might take our honeymoon in the Capital—assuming I’m not walking too bowlegged to keep up.” She winked at Ethan and the Pack. “And if the Guild tries to rope him into extra shifts, they’ll answer to me first.”
Aldric, already wearing his ring, just sighed, cheeks red but smiling. “Didn’t stand a chance,” he muttered. Pixie yipped in approval, Gwenna rolled her eyes, Moose gave a slow, approving nod.
Mabel leaned to Mara, stage-whispered, “It only took threats, bribes, and a little paperwork sabotage. The usual.” Then louder, “You all take care of each other—and Aldric, don’t make me come after you!”
Aldric gave Ethan a solid handshake and a brief embrace. “Keep your wits. Trust your Pack. And for the love of the council, write home once in a while.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Ed caught Ethan before boarding and squeezed his shoulder, eyes bright. He nodded at the pouch like it was a reminder he couldn’t put into words, then managed, “Food first. And write.”
Sam, trying to look brave, finally lost it. He bolted forward, wrapping Ethan in a tight hug, tears streaming. “You have to come back! And if you see anything shiny, bring me a piece, okay?” He kissed Ethan’s cheek, then—without missing a beat—hugged Pixie (who wiggled with delight), tried to tackle Buster (who slipped away with a bark), threw his arms around Lyra (who let him), and lunged for Amelia—
—who vanished into Ethan’s shadow with a flick of her tail before Sam could grab her. Only her blue eyes peered up from the darkness, wary but amused.
Sam blinked, then laughed. “She’s too fast for me. That’s okay. I’ll catch her next time.”
Mason padded over then, quiet as ever, and surprised everyone by pressing his head against Sam’s leg, giving him a firm, quick hug of his own.
Sam looked down, wiped his nose, and beamed through his tears. “Thanks, Mason. I’ll miss you too.”
Gwenna was present for all of it, standing near the front with her travel bag slung over one shoulder. She groaned with mock exasperation at Mabel’s announcement—“Finally!”—and, as the farewells wrapped up, gave Ethan a nod. “I’m getting on before anyone else decides to make a scene,” she muttered, swinging her bag up and stepping onto the barge. She found herself a spot near the rails, glancing back just long enough to catch the rest before they joined her.
Durgan watched the loading with a critical eye from the edge of the dock. When Ethan glanced his way, the merchant lifted two fingers in a short salute. “Keep your head on straight in Aldenreach,” he called. “And don’t let anyone talk down about the Pack.” He stepped in for a brief, solid shake, then released him without lingering. “Bring them back safe.”
The children were everywhere. Senna and Kip tackled Buster, laughing and crying. Tomlin toddled up to Moose, wrapped his arms around one leg, and tried to bite (gently). Moose rumbled with amusement, lowering his head to nudge Tomlin’s hair. “Careful, little one. That’s how you start a wrestling match.”
Tessa wouldn’t let go of Amelia, face buried against her side, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. Amelia, usually so reserved, pressed in close, tail trembling, ears flat as she leaned her head down and nuzzled Tessa’s hair. “I’ll miss you. Every single day,” she whispered.
Pixie, hovering nearby, dragged Lord Fluffington—the beloved, battered blanket—out of her own pack with her teeth and nosed it forward to Tessa’s feet. She bumped Tessa gently with her head. “He needs you to keep him safe for a while. At least until we’re back.”
Amelia nuzzled back into Tessa. “You have Lord Fluffington now. He’ll keep you brave.”
Tessa dropped to her knees, clutching the blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white. She looked up at Pixie and Amelia, sniffling hard, but managed a smile. “I’ll take care of him. I promise.”
Pixie’s tail wagged once, quick and bright. “He likes a spot in the sun. Don’t let him eat any more raisins.”
The imperial barge waited, sunlight glinting off banners and polished armor, the river beyond wide and bright. Commander Renard gave the order, and the ramp dropped with a thud that echoed across the docks. People called last goodbyes and safe travels, the noise rolling up and down the pier as the Pack—Mason scurrying quick and low at Ethan’s heel—Gwenna, and Ethan finally boarded together.
As the barge drifted slowly northward, Ethan stood at the stern, watching Celdoras shrink behind them. The Pack settled around him, some already exploring the deck, Mason quick to claim a spot near the rail.
Lyra moved up beside Ethan—quiet, confident, a little bolder than usual. She leaned lightly against his arm as they looked back at the city together, sharing the silence as the sun climbed higher.
For a moment, Ethan just let himself enjoy it—the warmth, the river, the Pack, and Lyra’s quiet presence at his side.
“You're sure about anchoring the homestead on the barge?” Moose asked softly.
“We have weeks of travel,” Ethan replied thoughtfully. “We should be comfortable, and safe.”
Moose nodded approvingly. “You’ve chosen a path.”
Ethan touched the fragment in his pocket again, feeling its warm hum—unfinished, uncertain, but undeniably important. He looked back at the city, at the Silverthorns still waving from the dock—Jorrin beside Mara with Tomlin on her hip, Senna and Tessa clutching their “treasure.” He thought he might have seen Kip in the back somewhere, but they were already drifting too far to tell. He felt the ache of leaving—a familiar, lonely pain—but this time, he let himself smile.
He’d lost family before. This time, he was leaving family behind. But he knew—truly knew—he could always come back. The Silverthorns would have a place for him. He could sit at their table, spoil the kids, and be the uncle with too much money and not enough sense. For the first time, the road ahead felt wide open, and the way home was clear.
Ethan’s Final Status – End of Book One
[Status – Ethan Cross]
Class: Arcane Tamer – Variant
Level: 15
HP: 245 / 245
MP: 1560 / 1560
STR: 31
DEX: 25
AGI: 31
CON: 24
INT: 34
WIS: 24
CHA: 15
LUK: 38
Stat Points Available: 0
Trait Points Available: 1
Pack Bonded:
Moose (Guardian’s Heart, Level 15)
Buster (Warhound Vanguard, Level 15)
Pixie (Trickster Scout, Level 15)
Amelia (Silent Fang, Level 15)
Lyra (Fortune’s Hand, Level 31)
Skills:
Pack Bond (Passive)
Mirror Link (Active)
Mana Sharing (Active)
Mirror Link Surge (Active)
Arcane Resonance (Passive)
Command Surge (Active)
Translation (Passive)
Pack Awareness (Passive)
Sword—Apprentice (Lv. 5)
Trade Class: Enchanter (Level 10)
Skills:
Manaflow (Passive)
Quick Bind (Passive)
Stability Weave (Passive)
Perks & Traits:
Mana Sharing
Mirror Link Surge
(Trait Point Available)
