Chapter 164: Finally Home
The sun was nearly at its peak when the Apache crested the last ridge before Elandra. Inigo eased the aircraft into a slow hover, watching the distant towers of the capital glint beneath the sky like silver-tipped spears. He could see the city gates, the merchant caravans filing into the wide roads, and the smoke of cookfires curling from chimneys. Civilization again. It felt almost alien after the quiet wilderness and the chaos of battle.
Beside him, Lyra was brushing windblown strands of hair from her face. "We’re close. Are we flying it all the way in?"
Inigo shook his head. "No. Can’t risk drawing attention. This thing’s loud and massive. I’d rather keep it under wraps."
He opened his system interface, fingers tapping against the sleek console. A faint shimmer surrounded the Apache, pixelating around the edges as the entire helicopter dematerialized, vanishing into his inventory with a soft hum.
Lyra blinked. "Still not used to watching a flying war machine disappear like it’s a magic wand."
He smirked. "You’ll get used to it. Now come on—we walk from here."
They disembarked on a grassy plateau overlooking a forest trail that would lead to the city gates within the hour. The path was well-worn by travelers and patrolled regularly by city scouts, so it was safe enough. Inigo slung his rifle on his back, pulling a cloth over it to avoid drawing stares, while Lyra adjusted her cloak to hide her gear.
The walk was quiet at first—just birdsong and the rustling of leaves. But Inigo found his mind wandering back to the village. The faces of the children. The old woman’s trembling voice. The crackle of fire from the goblin raid. He couldn’t shake the feeling that even though they’d won a battle, the war ahead was far bigger.
"You think the Guild will believe us?" Lyra asked, breaking the silence.
"They’ll believe Thorne," Inigo replied. "And we’ve got enough ash on us to prove we didn’t spend the last few days sipping wine in a meadow."
The gates of Elandra loomed soon after. The guards barely glanced their way—too used to seeing muddy adventurers return from near-death outings. Inigo flashed his registration tag, and they were waved through without hassle.
The streets of Elandra bustled with life. Merchants peddled herbs and weapons. Smiths hammered iron. A bard strummed a lute near the fountain plaza, and a group of young mages in training robes darted between spell towers on errands. Everything was normal.