Chapter 91: The Road Home
I was holding Lana, her small head resting against my chest, her breathing a soft, steady rhythm that was a stark contrast to the frantic beating of my own heart. She was sleeping, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated peace, the horrors of the goblin cave a distant, fading nightmare. I asked her maid to lead the way to her house, my own voice a low, tired murmur in the quiet, post-festival streets.
I followed, my own footsteps heavy with a weariness that went beyond simple physical exhaustion. The village, once a vibrant, chaotic symphony of light and life, was now settling into a quiet, peaceful slumber. The last of the festival-goers had returned to their homes, their laughter a faint, distant echo on the cool night air.
We arrived at a huge mansion, its dark, imposing form a stark contrast to the small, rustic cottages that surrounded it. It was dark already, but as we approached, the massive, iron-wrought gates swung open, and two figures, their faces a mixture of anxiety and a dawning, incredulous relief, rushed out to meet us.
Lana’s father and mother.
They moved with a speed that was almost desperate, their eyes first on the small, sleeping girl in my arms, then on me, and then on the maid, who was struggling under the weight of the dozen or so prizes we had won.
The silence was broken by Lana’s mother, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. "It seems," she said, a small, watery smile on her face, "that she really enjoyed herself."
Her father, Johen, let out a long, slow breath, the tension seeming to drain from his body. "It looks like it," he said, his own voice thick with a barely suppressed emotion. He looked at the mountain of gifts in the maid’s arms, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "And with all those gifts... are you planning to spoil my daughter, or take her away from me?" he asked, his tone a light, sarcastic note that did not quite hide the profound gratitude beneath.
We laughed, a shared, comfortable sound in the quiet night.
"I will be leaving early tomorrow morning," I said, my own voice a low, regretful murmur as I gently transferred the sleeping Lana into her mother’s arms. "We need to report back to the Academy, to tell them what has happened here."
Her mother’s smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Won’t you tell Lana?" she asked, her voice a soft, pleading thing. "She will feel really bad if you go without telling her."