Chapter 40:
The Return
Glory of Ash
The gate swung open.
Luke didn't remember pushing it. He didn't remember walking through. One moment he was standing in front of the wood—Varra beside him, Silla behind, the torchlight flickering across their grey faces—and the next, the fog was gone. The trees were gone.
The sky was blue.
He stopped. The ground beneath his boots was hard. Not cracked earth. Stone. The path leading into Jubilvalley.
"Luke."
Varra was ahead of him. She was walking toward the village. Her hands were at her sides. Her face was turned toward the walls.
"Come on."
He looked down at his hands.
The stain was gone.
---
The gate was closed behind them. He didn't remember it closing. He didn't remember passing through.
Silla limped past him. Her leg wasn't bandaged. She wasn't favoring it.
"It's good to be home," she said.
Luke looked at her leg.
"How did you—"
"The herb," she said. "It worked."
He opened his mouth to ask more. She was already walking ahead.
---
The village was alive.
People were in the streets. Not hiding. Not whispering. A woman was hanging laundry on a line. A group of children were kicking a stone near the Hearth Hall. Their laughter was loud. Real.
Luke stopped at the base of the catwalk.
A man nodded at him as he passed.
"Welcome back."
Another woman touched his arm.
"You did it. You saved us."
He didn't know her name. She smiled like she knew him.
---
Varra was waiting at the steps of the Great Hearth Hall.
"The Chief wants to see you."
"Why?"
"Because you brought back the cure."
Luke looked at his hands again. Clean. Smooth.
"The Pale-Vane," he said. "Jorund—"
"The Medics have it. They're already preparing the doses."
"Jorund gave it to me. Before—" He stopped.
Varra's face didn't change.
"He knew what he was doing."
---
The Council chamber was crowded.
The Chief sat at the head of the long table. His face was less grey than Luke remembered. His hands were steady.
"Luke." The Chief stood. "We owe you more than words can say."
Luke looked at the faces around the table. Keepers. Sector leads. People he'd seen in the halls, whose names he'd never learned.
"The herb," Luke said. "Is it working?"
The Chief nodded.
"The first doses have been administered. The Shade is receding. The Medics say we caught it in time."
"In time for who?"
The room went quiet.
The Chief's smile didn't waver.
"For everyone we could save."
---
Liara was waiting outside the chamber.
Her rust-red sleeves were clean. Her face was tired, but not hollow.
"You're asking the wrong questions," she said.
"What should I be asking?"
"You should be asking why you're still standing."
Luke looked at his hands.
"The stain—"
"Is gone. Whatever was inside you... it left."
"When?"
She touched his arm.
"When you walked through the gate."
---
He walked through the village.
The sun was warm. The sky was blue. The fog was gone.
He passed the Red Ward. The doors were open. Inside, people were sitting up in beds. Families were gathered around them. Crying. Laughing.
A woman saw him through the window. She pressed her hand to the glass.
Her lips moved.
*Thank you.*
He kept walking.
---
He found Silla at the well.
She was sitting on the edge, her legs dangling over the water. Her feet were bare. The skin was smooth.
"How's your leg?" he asked.
She looked down at it. Flexed her toes.
"It doesn't hurt."
"That's not what I asked."
She looked at him. Her eyes were clear.
"I don't remember what it felt like when it was bad. Is that strange?"
Luke sat beside her.
"I don't know."
"The medic said the herb repairs tissue. But it doesn't just heal. It... replaces."
"Replaces with what?"
Silla touched her calf. Pressed her finger into the skin. The flesh didn't dimple.
"I don't know."
---
Varra found them at sunset.
"The Chief is holding a feast. To honor the expedition."
Silla stood. "Are you going?"
Varra looked at Luke.
"Are you?"
He looked at the sky. The sun was low. The shadows were long. But the light didn't shift. The colors didn't deepen.
It just stayed.
"I don't know."
---
The Great Hearth Hall was full.
Tables were crowded. Benches were packed. The smell of food was thick—real food, not ration paste. Meat. Bread. Something sweet.
Luke sat at the head of the long table. Beside him, Varra. Across from him, Silla.
People raised their cups. Called his name.
He didn't drink.
"Where's Leon?" he asked.
Silla looked around. "I haven't seen him."
"Or Harkin?"
Varra's jaw tightened. "Resting. His leg—"
"His leg was healed."
The table went quiet.
Varra looked at him. Her face was still.
"It was. Then it wasn't. The herb didn't take."
Luke stared at her.
"You didn't tell me."
"You didn't ask."
---
He left the feast.
The hall was too loud. The lights were too bright. He walked to the gate.
The wood was solid. The iron was cold. The torches were lit.
He pressed his palm to the surface.
Warm.
"Luke."
He turned. Liara was standing behind him.
"You should be inside."
"I needed air."
She walked to stand beside him. Looked at the gate.
"It's over now."
"Is it?"
She took his hand.
"You're home. You're safe. The village is healing."
He looked at their hands. Her skin was warm. His was clean.
"Where's Jorund's body?"
Liara's face didn't change.
"There wasn't one to bring back."
---
He walked back to his room.
The walls were clean. The window was open. The air was still.
He lay on the bed. Stared at the ceiling.
The white was too white.
He pressed his palm to his chest.
The warmth was still there.
He closed his eyes.
The roots were waiting.
Please sign in to leave a comment.