The Return Home

Bard closed his eyes, letting all the tension ease out. All that he had experienced still ravaged his mind. All he had seen, experienced, and it was only just beginning to settle. A bit of relief came at the idea that he would have a few weeks to return back to his home. A few weeks too long in his opinion. But as Kai nuzzled his side, the comforting warmth, and Anjur’s soft chuckle echoed in the ravine, a quiet resolve settled over him. The Empress of the Night was gone, her shadowy form reduced to a child, her song now a faint, steady hum of hope.

Anjur knelt beside the girl, her small form curled up in rest. He scooped her up and placed her against Jay’s roots, his branches blooming with vibrant green leaves. He then placed his fingers against the mark on her forehead and channeled a bit of white moonlight into it before looking back at them. “Her name is Syrene, daughter of Selene,” Anjur said, his voice firm but kind, his gaze meeting Bard’s. “She’ll stay with us as we agreed, in the forest, where no one will find her.”

Jay’s leaves rustled, his voice a deep, resonant hum. “The world cannot know Syrene lives. They’ll hunt her. The humans, dryads, catfolk, even her former Shades who still cling to the darkness.” Bard nodded, the responsibility settling on his shoulders. Anjur and Jay exchanged a look, their words weaving the tale Bard would carry back to Sal Shefa.

“You’ll tell them you slayed her,” Anjur said, his tone steady, a craftsman shaping a story. “The Empress of the Night is dead. That’s why the shaded returned. It’s a tale they’ll believe, one that will keep her safe.”

Jay’s branches swayed in agreement, his voice softer now. “We’ll protect her, Bard. But she’ll have her own battles. Those Shades who chose to remain shaded will seek her out. This tale will shield her from the rest.”

Bard gritted his teeth. He could see the logic, and he knew what the others would say, but he disliked the idea of lying. There was so much truth here, so much to let the others know about. And he was sure the catfolk would understand a lot about the world’s creation. But when he thought of their even longer war with the Shades, he knew he couldn’t reveal how he had learned of the wars of these god-like figures. He met their gazes. They were bound, they had promised to keep Syrene safe. He rose.

Anjur helped him locate some gear and resources to carry him home. Bard patted Kai with a weary sigh, the fourteen-day journey to Sal Shefa stretching ahead.

Syrene stirred, her star-night gaze meeting his, disoriented but trusting. Bard offered a small wave, a silent farewell, but as Kai began to move, Syrene shouted.

“Thank you!” her voice was bright and childlike. She ran after them for a few steps, her small figure a stark contrast to the Empress she’d been. Bard’s heart clenched, shocked at the transformation. If she really was more like a child now, he would let her have the peace and safety he’d found in Father’s woods as a child. He turned away, the fourteen-day journey to Sal Shefa stretching ahead, carrying that tale. It may be a half-truth to shield a child, but it meant bearing the weight of a lie.

The city of Sal Shefa came into view as Bard pulled back on the harness, Kai stopping in response. Below, the villagers moved through the streets, their figures small but vibrant, a living testament to the unshading Selene had shown him. It warmed his heart to see it, just as the visions had promised, but the scars of destruction lingered, a reminder of the cost. The tale Anjur and Jay had crafted weighed on him, a necessary deception to protect Syrene from those who’d hunt her.

Kai trudged toward the town at a relaxed pace, the immediate threat of the Shades no longer looming. It gave Bard a moment to think. He closed his eyes, delving into his thoughts. Syrene was no longer an enemy, but a child caught in a web of darkness not entirely her own. Anjur and Jay’s tale was the only way to keep her safe, even if it meant playing a role Bard didn’t want. He shook his head, noticing a crowd gathering at the edge of town, likely having spotted him and Kai.

With a wan smile, he shifted to pull out his fiddle, bringing it to his cheek. He’d play his part, be the hero they needed, even if the lie twisted in his chest. With that in mind, he played Jay’s melody, the song of Father Tree, the god who had shaped this world, a tune of hope and unity that had carried them through the darkness. Kai’s ears flicked back to listen, but he never broke stride, his steps steady as they descended into the valley.

The crowd parted as Bard approached, their voices a soft murmur of anticipation, but his eyes sought only Sen and Zak. Sen stood at the forefront, her emerald eyes glistening with unshed tears, her still hair of red, radiant in the late afternoon light, Zak in her arms, his small hands reaching for Bard. The sight of them; alive, whole, unshaded, made his breath catch. The weight of the past fourteen days dissolving like mist in the sun. He dismounted, his legs unsteady, and Sen rushed forward, her arms wrapping around him in a fierce embrace, Zak nestled between them.

“Bard,” she whispered, her voice trembling against his ear, her fingers tangling in his hair. He felt her shudder, the fear of separation releasing in her grip, and he tightened his hold, burying his face in her shoulder. The scent of her, earthy, like the forest after rain, grounded him, a reminder of everything he’d fought to return to. “Papa,” Zak cooed, his voice small but clear, his tiny hand patting Bard’s cheek, and Bard’s heart clenched, a tear slipping down his face as he pressed a kiss to Zak’s forehead, then to Sen’s temple.

“I’m home,” Bard murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his hand cupping Sen’s face as he met her gaze. Her emerald eyes searched his, seeing the weight of he carried, the burden he bore, and her lips parted, a silent understanding passing between them. She brushed her thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tear, her touch steady and warm, a quiet promise that she’d carry it with him.

“You’re home,” she echoed, her voice a balm to the ache in his chest, her hand resting over his heart as if to feel its steady beat.

Zak squirmed between them, his small frame a quiet anchor, and Bard pulled them both closer, his arms a protective cocoon. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the three of them, the crowd’s murmurs fading into the background, the scars of Sal Shefa’s walls a distant memory. Bard let himself feel the safety he’d longed for, the peace he’d fought to reclaim, his family’s warmth a melody sweeter than any song he’d ever played. Sen’s forehead rested against his, her breath mingling with his, and Zak’s soft coos filled the space between them, a tender rhythm of home.

The moment stretched, unbroken, until the crowd’s voices grew louder, pulling them back. Amir stepped forward with a proud smile, while Elwood watched with ancient eyes. Jamil and Kihana, stood farther back, their kits about their feet, waving before exchanging a glance of relief. Elvira and Ruegar stood tall, greeting Bard in their unique ways, their faces alight with hope.

The villagers pressed closer, their faces a mix of joy and curiosity, some bearing the haunted look of those who’d felt the Empress’s presence during the fight at the village a month ago, a battle that had left scars on Sal Shefa’s walls and in their memories.

“The leader of the shades—we felt them, even here,” Elvira asked, her voice soft but edged with memory.

Sen’s gaze turned to Bard, her hand still over his heart, her voice gentle but firm. “The Empress of the Night. What happened to her?”

Bard’s smile faltered, the crafted tale bitter on his tongue. He glanced at Sen, her gaze steady, trusting, then back at the crowd. “I slayed her,” he said, his voice carrying the conviction Anjur and Jay had woven into the story. “The Empress of the Night is dead. That’s why you all came back.” The collective surprise and relief was evident, a murmur rippling through the crowd.

“All hail the Chief!” Ruegar cried, his voice rising above the rest, and a cheer erupted, the villagers’ voices a triumphant chorus that echoed through the valley. But the title sat heavy on Bard’s shoulders. He was no hero, just a bard keeping a promise. He disliked the lie, even if it protected Syrene.

The Empress was gone, her shadow dissolved, but the child lived, safe in the forest with Anjur and Jay, facing a future where she’d have to confront the Shades who remained shaded, those who still yearned for their Empress to return. And what had he done? He’d just played a song. He was no glorified hero.

Sen’s hand tightened in his, sensing his unease, and Zak nestled closer, his small frame a quiet anchor in the storm of cheers. Bard managed a genuine smile, holding his family close, the villagers’ celebration fading into the background as Jay’s melody lingered in his mind. It was a reminder of the hope they’d reclaimed, a hope he’d protect, no matter the cost, even as shadows stirred beyond the horizon.

In the shadows of the mountain’s edge overlooking Sal Shefa, a figure watched. Deimos, the Six-Eyed Harbinger, Selene’s son, his glowing blue eyes narrowed with disbelief. He had been watching the village, waiting for Bard’s return, and now he heard the claim: his Empress, his sister who had fused with his mother’s divinity, was dead. He didn’t believe it—not for a moment. The war’s end was a setback, not a defeat, and he would take Zak, as his Empress had asked of him, someday, his potential as Bard’s son, a prize for their own designs. For now, like they always did, he would let them have a bit of peace, a false peace he would shatter with time.