Morning came quietly over Thunderwood.
There were no longer screams echoing through the streets.
No smoke drifted into the sky.
No soldiers hurried to the walls expecting another attack.
Only the peaceful sounds of a city beginning a new day.
Sunlight spilled over the rooftops, painting the stone streets in shades of gold.
Merchants rolled open their wooden stalls, children chased each other through the marketplace, and the smell of fresh bread drifted from nearby ovens.
Life had returned to Thunderwood.
And so had hope.
Outside the small house Lord Alric had offered him until his own land could be prepared, Riven sat on a wooden crate beneath the morning sun.
His newly acquired armor rested nearby, polished until the golden trim shimmered against the black steel.
Across his lap rested his sword.
Slowly…
Carefully…
He dragged a whetstone across its edge.
Shhhh…
The quiet scrape of stone against steel filled the morning air.
Each pass of the blade gave him time to think.
Only a few weeks ago he had believed he was nothing more than a farmer’s son from the small village of Soulmere.
Now…
Everything had changed.
Oliver…
The man he had called Father all his life…
Had not shared his blood.
Yet somehow…
That truth had only deepened Riven’s respect for him.
Oliver had never once treated him as anything less than a son.
He had taught him to farm.
Taught him to fight.
Picked him up after every failure.
Celebrated every birthday.
Stayed awake through every fever.
Blood had never made Oliver his father.
Love had.
A small smile appeared on Riven’s face as the memory settled in his heart.
“My father…” he murmured quietly.
“No matter what anyone says…”
“…he’ll always be my father.”
His thoughts drifted again.
Yewshade.
The forgotten kingdom.
His true father’s castle.
The ring waiting somewhere within its ruins.
The answers he had searched for his entire life.
He knew where his journey had to lead.
But he also knew it would not be easy.
The road to Yewshade stretched across kingdoms torn apart by war, lawless territories, ancient ruins, and enemies that had already proven they wanted him dead.
He exhaled slowly.
“This is going to be a long journey…”
Before he could sink further into thought, footsteps approached behind him.
“What’s next for you, Riven?”
He looked up.
Vistara stood nearby, hands folded behind her back.
The morning breeze played gently with her hair as she smiled at him.
There was genuine curiosity in her eyes.
Not because she doubted him…
But because she genuinely wanted to know where his path would lead.
Before Riven could answer—
“Oh, I know.”
Javon’s voice interrupted from across the yard.
He leaned lazily against a supply wagon with his arms crossed.
“He’s probably going to kill the Demon Lord next.”
He shrugged dramatically.
“You know…”
“…with his newly discovered demigod powers.”
Several nearby soldiers laughed.
Riven didn’t even bother looking up.
Instead…
Shhhh…
He calmly continued sharpening his sword.
“I don’t even know what a Demon Lord is,” he muttered.
Raku floated nearby with his arms folded.
The spirit let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Sire…”
“I ask this with the utmost respect…”
He glanced toward Javon.
“…may we leave him behind?”
Javon grinned.
“What?”
Raku continued without missing a beat.
“Or perhaps…”
“We simply tie him to the back of the wagon.”
Javon’s jaw dropped.
“You ghost!”
“I have been nothing but nice to you!”
“You called me transparent yesterday.”
“…Because you are.”
“You insulted my hair!”
“You no longer possess hair.”
“I HAD HAIR!”
“You had many things.”
Javon pointed accusingly.
“I don’t like him.”
Raku looked toward Riven.
“Sire.”
“I believe I have won this debate.”
“You didn’t win anything!”
The two continued bickering like brothers who had forgotten what they were arguing about in the first place.
Nearby…
Syanna sat beneath the shade of a tree with several old books spread across the grass.
Aelwyn hovered beside her, pointing toward a page filled with ancient symbols.
“When weaving healing magic,” Aelwyn explained patiently, “never force the soul to move.”
He gently traced one glowing rune in the air.
“You guide it.”
The rune floated above Syanna’s open book.
“Magic is much like water.”
“It follows the easiest path.”
Syanna watched carefully before attempting the same motion herself.
A small silver rune appeared above her fingertips.
It wobbled.
Fizzled.
Then it disappeared.
She sighed.
“I almost had it.”
“You did.”
Aelwyn smiled.
“Almost.”
Riven couldn’t help smiling as he watched all of them.
Only days ago…
Every one of these people had been strangers.
Now…
Raku argued with Javon almost every morning.
Syanna spent hours learning forgotten magic from a wizard who had died centuries ago.
Aelwyn seemed happier than Riven had ever seen him.
And Vistara…
She remained standing beside him.
Quietly.
Comfortably.
Without needing to say anything.
Riven looked around once more.
At the arguments.
The laughter.
The conversations.
The life surrounding him.
Then something unexpected settled inside his chest.
Peace.
He didn’t feel alone.
He had a spirit knight who would willingly lay down his soul for him.
An ancient wizard guiding his path.
A lifebinder who cared for him like family.
A loud, impossible friend who somehow made every day lighter.
And Vistara…
Someone whose kindness reminded him that home wasn’t always a place.
Sometimes…
It was the people standing beside you.
Riven rested his sword across his knees and smiled faintly.
“I don’t know exactly what’s next,” he admitted.
“But before I search for Yewshade…”
He looked toward the open land Alric had granted him.
“…I’d like to build a home.”
The arguing behind him stopped for just a moment.
Javon blinked.
“A home?”
Riven nodded.
“A place worth returning to.”
He looked back at the people around him.
His friends.
His companions.
His family.
“Somewhere all of us are welcome.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Vistara smiled.
It wasn’t a grand smile.
It was small.
Warm.
The kind that reached her eyes.
“I think…” she said softly,
“…I’d like to see that.”
The days following the celebration passed quietly.
The excitement surrounding the Battle of Thunderwood slowly faded as the city settled back into its ordinary rhythm.
Merchants reopened their shops, children once again filled the streets with laughter, and the damaged walls were steadily repaired.
Life moved forward.
So did Riven.
Every morning before the sun had fully risen, he would leave Thunderwood carrying an axe across his shoulder and a coil of rope tied around his waist.
His destination was always the same.
The stretch of land Lord Alric had granted him just beyond the edge of the city.
At first…
It was nothing more than an open field bordered by towering pines.
But every time Riven looked across it, he didn’t see empty land.
He saw possibility.
He stood in the center of the clearing one morning with a piece of charcoal in his hand, carefully sketching lines across the dirt.
A kitchen.
A fireplace.
A workshop.
Several spare rooms.
A porch that overlooked the forest.
His fingers paused for a moment.
“…And enough space for everyone.”
He smiled to himself before returning to work.
The first tree fell just after sunrise.
The echo of his axe rang through the forest.
THUNK.
THUNK.
CRACK.
The enormous pine groaned before crashing to the ground, shaking the earth beneath his feet.
Riven rested the axe across his shoulder and looked down at the fallen tree.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly.
Then, before cutting the trunk into usable lumber, he knelt beside the stump.
From the pouch hanging at his belt, he removed a handful of young pine saplings.
One by one…
He planted them into the earth nearby.
Covering their roots carefully with fresh soil.
Aelwyn watched from behind, his translucent form floating just above the ground.
“A thoughtful habit.”
Riven patted the dirt into place.
“My father always said…”
He smiled faintly.
“If you take something from nature…”
“…you should always give something back.”
The old wizard nodded with quiet approval.
“A king should think that way.”
Day after day…
The routine continued.
As the morning sun climbed higher, Riven hauled enormous logs across the clearing alone.
The weight would have required several ordinary men to move.
Yet with Vyr flowing through his muscles, he carried them across his shoulders one after another.
Each log found its place.
Each beam fit together with careful precision.
This wasn’t rushed work.
Every measurement was checked twice.
Every cut was clean.
Every joint locked perfectly into the next.
Oliver had taught him to build fences and barns as a boy.
Now…
Those same lessons became the foundation of his first true home.
By midday the heat became almost unbearable.
Without saying a word, Aelwyn would raise one translucent hand.
A gentle breeze immediately drifted across the clearing.
The cool wind carried away the worst of the summer heat, allowing Riven to continue working without exhaustion.
“Still spoiling him,” Raku teased.
“I am preserving efficiency,” Aelwyn answered calmly.
“There is a difference.”
Raku laughed quietly.
“If you say so.”
When evening approached, Raku disappeared into the surrounding forest.
He always returned before sunset.
Sometimes carrying rabbits.
Sometimes fish.
Occasionally an entire deer slung across one shoulder.
“You know,” Riven said one evening while turning meat over the fire, “you’re surprisingly good at hunting.”
“I spent most of my life feeding soldiers.”
Raku shrugged.
“It is difficult to fight on an empty stomach.”Javon, who had stopped by for dinner that night, looked at the perfectly roasted meat.
“…Can your ghost stay forever?”
Raku immediately frowned.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
Over the weeks…
The empty field slowly transformed.
The foundation became walls.
The walls became rooms.
The rooms became a home.
Citizens from Thunderwood often wandered outside the city just to watch.
At first they came out of curiosity.
Then…
They came because they wanted to see what the Golden Demon would build next.
Children climbed onto nearby fences to watch him lift beams thicker than tree trunks.
Old craftsmen quietly nodded in appreciation whenever they noticed the precision of his woodworking.
“He cut that joint perfectly.”
“He learned from someone good.”
“I’ve been building houses forty years…”
“…and even I couldn’t make beams fit together that cleanly.”
Some people eventually stopped watching.
Instead…
They began helping.
A farmer arrived one morning with a wagon full of stone.
“I’ve got extra.”
A blacksmith brought iron nails.
A carpenter donated polished window frames.
An elderly woman arrived carrying fresh bread.
“You’ll work yourself to death if you don’t eat.”
Riven tried paying them.
None accepted.
“You saved our families.”
“This is the least we can do.”
Before long…
The house stood proudly overlooking the edge of the forest.
Two stories tall.
Built from rich dark timber, accented with lighter wood that framed every window and doorway.
A broad front porch wrapped around the house, overlooking the distant walls of Thunderwood.
Large windows welcomed sunlight into every room.
Inside, the house felt warm.
Comfortable.
Lived in.
But its greatest protection wasn’t visible at first glance.
Aelwyn spent several evenings carefully carving ancient runes into the wooden beams surrounding the home.
Each symbol was etched with incredible precision.
When the final carving was complete, the old wizard rested his glowing hand against the central pillar.
Blue Vyr flowed through every line.
The carvings answered.
One after another, they lit with a soft golden glow.
The light spread through the walls like veins carrying life.
A quiet hum filled the air.
Then—
It vanished.
Riven looked around in confusion.
“…Did it work?”
Aelwyn smiled.
“Oh, yes.”
He looked toward the forest surrounding the property.
His expression grew more serious.
“But anyone who enters with ill intent…”
A faint shimmer appeared around the property before disappearing completely.
“…will discover they were never truly welcome.”
Riven stood quietly on the porch that evening.
The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and crimson.
He looked across the home he had built with his own hands.
The first home he had ever chosen.
The first home no one had taken from him.
His hand rested gently against one of the wooden pillars.
He smiled.
“…I’ll come back.”
Not because he doubted himself.
But because….
He finally had a place worth returning to.
Riven stood on the front porch, his hands resting against the smooth wooden railing he had carved himself.
The morning sun bathed the house in a warm golden light, causing the lighter wood accents to almost glow.
The scent of fresh-cut timber still lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of breakfast drifting from the kitchen window.
He looked over everything one more time.
The sturdy porch.
The wide windows.
The stone chimney rising above the roof.
The carvings Aelwyn had etched into the beams shimmered faintly before disappearing once more beneath the surface of the wood.
It was finished.
Not a training hut.
Not a temporary shelter.
A home.
Riven found himself smiling simply because he had built something with his own hands.
Behind him came the sound of slow clapping.
Javon walked across the yard with an exaggerated look of approval, nodding dramatically as he looked the house up and down.
“Well…” he said.
“I’ve got to admit…”
He looked back at Riven.
“You actually did it.”
Riven raised an eyebrow.
“I wasn’t aware there was any doubt.”
“Oh, there was plenty.”
Javon crossed his arms and leaned against one of the porch posts.
“See?”
He motioned toward the house.
“Now you don’t have to sleep on a cave floor anymore.”
Before Riven could answer—
THWACK.
Vistara’s fist landed squarely against Javon’s upper arm.
“Ow!”
He grabbed his arm dramatically.
“What was that for?”
She folded her arms and gave him an unamused look.
“Really?”
“What?”
“You couldn’t let him enjoy the moment for five seconds?”
Javon rubbed his arm.
“I was complimenting him!”
“You started by insulting him.”
“I was pointing out character growth.”
Vistara rolled her eyes.
“You’re impossible.”
Javon looked toward Riven for support.
“Tell her!”
Riven simply folded his arms.
“I think she made a convincing argument.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side!”
Before Riven could answer, a familiar voice drifted across the porch.
“Yet…”
Raku appeared beside Riven in a shimmer of blue light.
“…he has more class than a shield monkey like you.”
Several nearby workers immediately burst into laughter.
Javon slowly turned toward the spirit.
“Oh.”
“You again.”
Raku folded his arms.
“I never left.”
Javon pointed accusingly.
“You’re just jealous.”
Raku tilted his head.
“Jealous?”
“I can actually touch physical objects.”
Javon slapped the porch railing for emphasis.
“You?”
He waved his hand through Raku’s translucent shoulder.
“Ghost.”
Another wave.
“Lapdog.”
Raku stared at him for a long moment.
Then looked toward Riven with complete seriousness.
“Sire…”
His voice remained perfectly calm.
“I require permission to strike him.”
Javon blinked.
“…What?”
“One good beating should correct his attitude.”
“I heard that!”
“I intended for you to.”
Riven let out the faintest chuckle.
“No, Raku.”
The spirit sighed.
“A shame.”
Riven looked over at Javon, whose smug grin had already returned.
“He couldn’t handle having his ego shattered this early in the morning.”
Silence.
Everyone stared at Riven.
Javon’s smile slowly disappeared.
“…Wait.”
He pointed at Riven in disbelief.
“Did…”
He looked around at everyone else.
“Did he just make a joke?”
Nobody answered.
Vistara covered her mouth, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.
Even Syanna blinked in surprise before letting out a soft laugh.
Raku looked genuinely stunned.
“…Sire…”
“…that was excellent.”
Aelwyn, who had been quietly inspecting the protective runes carved into the house, looked over his shoulder.
“Well…”
A small smile spread beneath his beard.
“It appears the boy has finally discovered humor.”
“I am funny!”
Javon protested.
“You’re funny to laugh at,” Vistara replied.
The group laughed together.
Javon looked from one face to another before throwing both hands into the air.
“This is unbelievable.”
He pointed dramatically at Riven.
“I spend weeks trying to get him to smile.”
He pointed at Raku.
“I spend weeks arguing with Mr. See Through over there.”
“I have a name,” Raku interrupted.
“And now everybody gangs up on me?”
Riven shrugged.
“You walked into that one.”
Javon’s eyes widened again.
“There it is!”
“He did it again!”
The porch erupted into laughter once more.
Riven leaned lightly against the railing, looking at the people around him.
Vistara was still smiling.
Syanna laughed quietly as Aelwyn shook his head with amused resignation.
Raku stood with the dignified posture of a knight, despite having just asked permission to beat someone.
And Javon…
Javon continued complaining to absolutely no one willing to listen.
The laughter surrounding Riven wasn’t someone else’s.
It was his.
And as the sound echoed across the front porch of the home he had built, he realized something that caught him completely off guard.
This place already felt like family.
Something inside Riven felt warm.
He finally felt like he had a family again.
But this time he would make sure he could protect them with all of his power.
Today would be a celebration but come tomorrow it would be back to business.
Riven knew deep down that he had to become stronger in order to protect his new family and to find his true self.