The Truth Is

The last of the evening light filtered through the cottage windows as Elowen prepared dinner. A knife guided by her magic chopped carrots with rhythmic precision, while the aroma of herbs drifted from a simmering pot. Damian appeared in the doorway, his shoulders still aching from another training session with Cedric. Watching the legendary sword slinger fight had been exhilarating; attempting to keep up with him was an entirely different matter.

"Would you like some help?" he asked.

Elowen glanced up with a smile.

"No, dear."

Damian surveyed the ingredients on the counter, and an idea brightened his expression.

"Please let me bake bread and pastries for all of you today. My parents taught me. My father made the best bread in town."

Elowen caught the wistfulness beneath his enthusiasm. However comfortably he had settled into their household, he still missed Stefan and Gemma.

"Really? By all means, then."

Damian left his weapons outside and washed his hands while Elowen summoned Nilly to help him find the ingredients. She arrived with Frey perched on her shoulder, a flower woven into her long, jet-black braid. Judging by her exasperated expression, the tiny red bird had already started teasing her.

Damian looked up, and his greeting faltered. For an instant, he appeared to have forgotten what he intended to say.

"Eleanor, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Yes, Eleanor," she replied with a smile. "But everyone calls me Nilly."

Everyone except me. I prefer the silly girl who stumbled upon greatness, Frey declared inside her head.

"No one asked you, Frey," Nilly replied aloud.

Damian glanced at the bird, whose beak remained firmly shut.

"How does that work?"

"She talks to me telepathically. Unfortunately, she is one very opinionated freak of a bird."

Frey fluffed her feathers in indignation.

Says the girl whose thoughts suddenly became a lot louder when someone looked at her.

Nilly reached for a bowl, nearly knocking over a jar of flour in her haste. She caught it before it fell, but Frey was merciless.

Careful. Wouldn't want him to notice how flustered you are.

"Frey!"

What? I'm only repeating what you're thinking.

"Stay out of my head."

Damian watched the exchange with mounting bewilderment.

"I feel like I'm missing a very important conversation here."

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Desperate to escape Frey's relentless teasing, Nilly pushed the bowl toward Damian, hoping the distraction of baking might spare her any further awkwardness.

"How many eggs do you need?"

"Four, I think. And butter, please."

As Damian kneaded the dough, Nilly watched him fold and press the mixture with practiced ease.

"You can use magic for that," she observed.

"Yeah, but my father always did it by hand," Damian said with a smile. "He said it tastes way better this way. You'll see."

For a moment, the familiar movements seemed to carry him back to another kitchen. He paused, then changed the subject.

"Maddox told me they serve excellent meals at the academy. Apparently, they have chefs from different kingdoms cooking there."

"Really?"

"Different dishes every day. He said even the dining hall is impressive."

Nilly's teal eyes brightened with anticipation.

"I love food. I love trying new cuisines. I cannot wait to try all the desserts too. That's the best part of eating."

Her hands curled into excited fists, and Damian couldn't help smiling at her enthusiasm.

"So out of everything Maddox told us about the academy... the food is what got your attention?"

"Obviously."

Damian laughed, and Nilly found herself smiling at the sound. It was strangely infectious, and she almost forgot about Frey until the little bird gave a knowing chirp.

A little later, Aaron entered and began setting the table, guiding plates and cups into immaculate alignment with his magic. He noticed the flour on Damian's sleeves, Nilly's unusually cheerful expression, and Frey's apparent satisfaction. Naturally, he kept his observations to himself.

Nilly caught his glance anyway.

"Damian is baking. His parents taught him."

"I didn't ask."

"You were thinking it."

Aaron hesitated, then resumed arranging the cutlery. Unfortunately, she was right, and he saw no reason to acknowledge it.

Damian inspected the perfectly ordered table and grinned.

"So the old wizard doesn't just cast spells, he also sets the table to perfection. Quite the domesticated fellow you are."

Aaron regarded the flour-dusted warrior without a flicker of amusement.

"Says the warrior baking bread in the kitchen."

Nilly glanced between them, delighted by the prospect of another contest neither would admit to starting. Damian straightened and raised his flour-covered hands with theatrical pride.

"Legend says only warriors with true spirit can bake a loaf of bread this good."

"Watch carefully, Nilly," Aaron replied. "I don't want the legendary warrior to give us food poisoning."

Damian pressed a hand against his chest, feigning injury.

"Ouch. My warrior spirit is wounded." He regarded Aaron with renewed amusement. "The demeanor and sense of humor of a thousand-year-old wizard? I'm impressed."

Nilly burst into laughter, and Frey bounced gleefully on her shoulder. By the time dinner was served, the scent of freshly baked bread had filled the cottage, and Damian's pastries received an enthusiastic welcome.

Later, Frey abandoned Nilly's shoulder and nestled into Damian's thick reddish-brown hair, falling asleep almost immediately. Nilly smiled at the sight. Her proud companion would never confess it, but she seldom chose a resting place so readily unless she genuinely liked someone.

Long after the cottage fell silent, Aaron slipped outside. Ever since Nilly's encounter with the Covenant spies, he had been surveying the surrounding forest. The cave, the strangers, their interest in the area—some crucial connection continued to elude him.

"It doesn't make sense," he murmured.

"Yeah. Beats me too, bro. It's an impossible riddle to solve."

Aaron turned to find Damian approaching along the shadowed path.

"What are you doing here?"

"Same as you. Protecting people I care about."

The sincerity of his answer caught Aaron off guard. He offered no objection as Damian fell into step beside him, and together they followed the boundary of Elowen's protective enchantments.

"You know, Elowen's barriers are solid," Damian remarked. "No one's crossed the threshold yet."

Aaron stopped.

"Yet?"

Damian realized his unintended admission. Aaron studied him with new understanding.

"So you've been keeping watch every night too."

Damian nodded, and Aaron resumed walking without another word.

Eventually, the trees parted to reveal the cave. Its entrance lay dark and motionless beneath the moonlight, yet Aaron could almost hear the echoes of their final battle. The dungeon's relentless assaults, the core's overwhelming power, and their helplessness at the end returned with unnerving clarity.

They stood together in silence until Damian finally spoke.

"Aaron... I'm glad it was you beside me that day." His eyes remained on the cave. "My life had already flashed before my eyes."

Aaron lowered his gaze.

"I..." He swallowed. "I saw them too. Nilly... Mom... Dad."

He drew a breath, finally voicing what had troubled him since their rescue.

"The truth is... it was dumb luck that we survived. It made me realize how arrogant I was to think I understood magic when I'd barely scratched the surface."

His jaw tightened. He had once believed talent and knowledge would be enough, but the dungeon had exposed how badly he lacked experience.

"I... have to get better."

Damian had never heard Aaron speak with such unguarded honesty. The mage usually concealed his fears beneath dry remarks and a composed expression.

"Then let's do it together," Damian said. "At the academy, we'll grow stronger in our own ways. Where one of us falls short, the other can help." His smile returned, gentler this time. "That's what friends are for, isn't it?"

Aaron considered the invitation. After a moment, he answered with a small nod, and Damian seemed to understand that it meant more than any elaborate speech could have.

They turned toward the cottage, their footsteps quiet beneath the trees. Neither felt compelled to speak, and the silence between them was unexpectedly comfortable.

Aaron glanced at the young warrior walking beside him.

He had always had a family.

For the first time in his life, he realized he had found a friend.