Chapter 24 Almost Home

Kai stood outside their quiet home, hands on his hips, staring at the stone-paved yard that stretched just beyond the kitchen wall. The breeze carried the smell of market spices and fresh bread, but his mind wasn’t on food. He had been thinking about it since the night they dragged the troll through the gates. The house was good—solid, safe—but it wasn’t complete.

It wasn’t a home yet.

Not until they had a place to really rest. A place to soak off the fights, the grime, the things that clung after battle. Not a cold river or a washbasin. Something better. Something permanent.

A bathhouse.

He left quietly that morning, not telling the girls where he was going. Let them enjoy their first real day out. Let them laugh, shop, smile like normal people—like people who’d earned it. He walked through town, hands tucked into his coat, the back alleys quieter than usual. A few shopkeepers nodded. He gave a quick nod back but didn’t stop.

He had a plan.

The path led him toward the demibeast district—hotter, louder, packed tight with forges and smoke. The sound of hammers on metal filled the air. The smell of burning coal mixed with grease and sweat. Blacksmiths with furred arms, feathered shoulders, and scale-covered faces worked in the heat like it was nothing. They didn’t care who passed. They just worked.

At the end of the lane stood a place he remembered.

Cherish’s Forge.

She was there—muscular, soot-covered, and already irritated about something. Her horns were short, her apron stained and patched. When she saw him walk in, she set down her tongs and grinned like she’d been waiting for this day.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the guild’s favorite headache. You here to break something or build something?”

Kai dropped a leather pouch of coin on her anvil.

“Four barrels. Iron. Reinforced. Need grates underneath for fire. No frills. Just strong.”

She opened the pouch, peeked inside, and let out a low whistle. “That enough for four?”

“It better be,” Kai replied. “They’re not for soaking feet.”

Cherish tilted her head. “No drains?”

“Nope. Need to hold water. All of it.”

She didn’t ask why. Didn’t smirk or poke fun. Just nodded.

“Delivery spot?”

“Our house. Guild district. Backyard. It’s the one with moss on the roof. Fox girl with tired eyes might glare at you—ignore her.”

“Got it.”

She turned to yell orders at her apprentices, already halfway through planning the whole build in her head.

Kai stood there for a second longer. Then: “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said, without turning. “Just don’t let ‘em crack under too much love.”

...

It took most of the day, but by late afternoon, the barrels were in place—lined in a row beneath a makeshift pergola. Kai had already stoked the fires beneath them, watched the water begin to bubble and steam. A trail of scented herbs sat waiting nearby. A gift from one of the market vendors who said, “You look like you’re doing something important. Take this.”

He didn’t argue.

By the time the girls returned, arms heavy with bags and cheeks red from laughter and sun, they stopped dead in their tracks.

Steam curled into the air like a dream.

“What is this?” Fara asked, voice half-cautious, half in awe.

Kai didn’t look at them. Just threw a rag over his shoulder and muttered, “You all smell. Get in before I throw you in myself.”

Revoli squealed. Skye blinked like she was about to cry. Fara just smiled quietly, stepping forward.

And for a brief second, Kai let himself smile too.

It wasn’t just a house anymore.

It was becoming a home.