The house smelled of bread and smoke.
The worn kitchen table wobbled just the same.
Kaelen sat there, rough-hewn chair creaking under him, while his mother bustled to bring food — far more than he could ever eat.
His father sat across from him, arms folded, eyes studying him quietly.
And then —
They came thundering down the stairs.
"Mother said—!"
"Is it really him—?"
"Where is he!?"
The door slammed open.
And there they were:
Riven Drayce — taller, broader than Kaelen remembered, wild flame in his eyes.
Lyanna Drayce — sharp-eyed, quiet, a worn book clutched to her chest even now.
Alen Drayce — the youngest, barely twelve, trailing behind the others with wide, uncertain eyes.
Kaelen stood slowly.
Riven punched his shoulder — hard enough to stagger a normal man.
Kaelen only laughed and ruffled his brother's messy hair.
Lyanna approached shyly, but when Kaelen opened his arms, she rushed into his embrace, dropping her book with a clatter.
Alen hung back, nervous.
Kaelen knelt before him, smiling softly.
"I missed you, little brother."
Alen hesitated.
Then, tears welling, he threw himself into Kaelen's arms.
They clung together.
As brothers.
As family.
As the future of a dream not yet born.