The setting sun dipped low, casting a golden glow over the Vale Estate as Aren walked hand-in-hand with Selene across the wide, manicured garden paths.
Crystal street lamps flickered on, their magic-tech crystals glowing softly as they passed.
Their steps were unhurried, the evening air fragrant with spirit blossoms.
The sound of children's laughter floated toward them — high, pure notes of joy that seemed to cleanse the air itself.
Selene's hand tightened slightly around his.
"You seem... different today," she murmured, a quiet smile curving her lips.
Aren made a low sound of acknowledgment.
He didn't have the words yet. How could he explain to her — the woman who had loved the old Aren through decades of cold distance — that inside his chest now beat a soul burning with a fierce, overwhelming gratitude for everything he had been given?
Instead, he smiled at her — a rare, genuine smile that made Selene's violet eyes widen in pleased surprise.
They crossed into the East Wing of the manor, where the family dining hall awaited.
Tonight, only their dearest family would fill the long, polished table.
Waiting for them already were their two children — Darian Vale, the newly crowned Grand Duke, and Lyra Vale, their sharp, quick-witted daughter — along with their respective partners.
Darian's wife sat gracefully beside him, offering Aren a respectful nod.
Lyra's husband was leaning back casually in his chair, greeting Aren with a warm smile.
Darian stood the moment he saw Aren, offering a respectful bow.
He was a tall man, his hair as black as a raven's wing — the unmistakable mark of the Vale bloodline — and his expression calm, steady.
"Father," he said simply.
"Welcome home."
Lyra approached more boldly, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder.
Her golden eyes, so like Aren's, gleamed with emotion.
"Father!" she said warmly, clasping his forearm in the old knightly greeting — but then impulsively leaning in to hug him tightly.
Aren blinked, stiffened slightly... then returned the embrace, feeling the hesitant tremble in her frame.
He squeezed her back, not with the old, formal strength of a Grand Duke — but with a father's quiet love.
At the far end of the room, two small figures scrambled around a sofa, peeking at him with wide, curious eyes.
Elara, Darian's daughter — the serious one — stood tall and straight, even at her young age, with her black hair braided neatly and a wooden practice sword strapped at her back.
Beside her, Mira, Lyra's daughter — mischievous, sparkling with laughter — had wild black hair full of tiny spirit flowers and an impish grin on her face.
Aren knelt down, opening his arms wordlessly.
Both girls dashed forward — Mira reaching him first and crashing into him with a delighted squeal, Elara arriving with more dignity but no less warmth.
Aren rested a large, calloused hand gently atop each of their heads.
"You've both grown well," he said softly.
Elara's lips twitched in what could almost be called a smile.
Mira simply beamed and latched onto his arm, refusing to let go.
Dinner was a lively affair, the grand table filled not with stiff political discussions, but with laughter, small arguments, and the clatter of silverware against fine plates.
The meal itself was a blend of traditional spirit foods and modern culinary delights — slow-roasted spirit beast meat, bread infused with vitality runes, and sparkling wines grown from ancient vine terraces.
Yet Aren barely tasted any of it.
He watched, soaking in every expression, every voice.
Darian calmly recounted the latest administrative affairs — how the Duchy was adjusting to the modern blending of noble traditions and magic-tech industries.
Lyra teased him mercilessly about being "too serious for a man not yet fifty," making even stoic Darian crack a rare smile.
Selene, seated beside Aren, simply watched them all with serene pride, occasionally brushing her fingers over his hand under the table.
Across from him, Elara carefully reported her training regimen at the academy, listing sword forms and meditation cycles with intense seriousness.
Beside her, Mira wiggled excitedly, showing off a small floating orb — a magic-tech toy she had mastered before most of her classmates.
Aren chuckled lowly, drawing surprised looks.
It was a deep, rich sound — unfamiliar from the old Grand Duke, yet somehow fitting him now.
Selene squeezed his hand lightly in encouragement.
Halfway through the meal, Aren cleared his throat lightly.
The conversation tapered off almost instantly — instinctively, the family turned their attention to him.
"I made an announcement today at the Imperial Summit," he said, his voice calm but firm.
Darian simply inclined his head, unsurprised.
The others — Lyra, her husband, Elara, Mira, even Selene herself — stared at him in confusion.
"I have officially retired from all political and military duties," Aren said smoothly.
"I have passed the title of Grand Duke to Darian."
The room froze.
Mira's mouth dropped open in a little 'o'.
Lyra gaped, her golden eyes wide.
Selene set her wine glass down with a small, audible clink against the table.
"You... retired?" Lyra echoed, disbelief thick in her voice.
"Effective immediately," Aren said, smiling faintly.
"I will remain within the estate unless the fate of humanity itself demands otherwise."
He turned his gaze to Darian, who met it with a steady nod — already prepared, already carrying the weight of the mantle Aren had passed to him.
"And now," Aren added, "I intend to live quietly here, with my wife, my children, and my grandchildren.
As a husband. As a father. As a grandfather."
A silence stretched across the table, heavy and trembling — until Mira's bright voice suddenly rang out:
"Does that mean you'll teach me sword stuff every day now, Grandpa?!"
Aren laughed — truly laughed — and the spell broke.
The rest of the dinner was filled with stunned questions, cautious excitement, and an unmistakable, growing warmth that filled the Vale family's grand dining hall like a sunrise.
Later, they migrated to the solarium — a wide glass-walled lounge filled with exotic spirit plants, low sofas, and a clear view of the starlit sky.
The girls played nearby, Mira laughing wildly as floating lights danced above her, while Elara patiently practiced sword stances in the open courtyard.
Darian and Lyra discussed estate matters in low tones, occasionally interrupted by Mira trying to show them her latest "magic trick."
Selene rested against Aren's side, her head tilted onto his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck.
"You're staying," she whispered, a note of disbelief and wonder still threading her voice.
Aren turned slightly, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Yes," he murmured.
"No more councils. No more wars. Only us. Only family."
Selene closed her eyes, savoring the words she had once feared she would never hear.
And Aren — once a lion caged by duty, once a weapon forged only for battle — closed his eyes too, breathing in the scent of home, of peace, of love.
This was his world now.
Not Aren Vale the Grand Duke.
Not Aren Vale the legend.
Simply Aren — husband, father, grandfather.
And he was finally, truly home.