The three siblings stepped through the door of their home, exhaustion written across their faces but victory glowing in their eyes. The air inside felt different—lighter, freer—as though the walls themselves recognized the triumph they carried back with them.

  Artemis collapsed onto the worn, handmade couch with a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair.

  “Man… those guys were tough,” he muttered, a grin tugging at his lips despite the bruises already forming across his arms.

  Hela leaned against the table, her smirk sharp as ever.

  “Tough? Maybe. But that priest…” She let out a dark, amused laugh. “He’ll have every reason to call me a demon now. I gave him exactly what he deserved.”

  Her eyes glinted with satisfaction, though beneath it lay a fierce protectiveness only her brothers knew how to read.

  Lokey, standing in the center of the room, let his shoulders drop as if finally allowing himself to rest. His gaze swept between them, lingering a moment longer on Hela’s smirk before he nodded.

  “I couldn’t have done it without either of you,” he said quietly. “Thank you—for helping me save Asra.”

  Hela stepped forward and set a hand gently on his shoulder, the gesture soft despite her usual edge.

  “Anytime, brother. But…” Her smirk returned as her eyes narrowed knowingly. “You can’t hide from what you feel. Even the Baron noticed.”

  Artemis chuckled from the couch, propping himself up on one elbow.

  “Hear, hear. She’s right, big brother. Don’t let her slip through your fingers. That Asra… she’s a very special person.”

  Lokey opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. His siblings’ teasing hit too close to the truth, and the warmth blooming in his chest told him they were right. He looked away—not in denial, but in quiet contemplation.

  The siblings shared a rare moment of laughter—tired, raw, but real. Their bond had carried them through hell and back, and for tonight, that was enough.

  The laughter was cut short as heavy boots thumped down the stairs. The old dwarf, hair sticking out in wild tufts from a half-slept-in beard, stomped into the room while rubbing his eyes.

  “I know it’s your darn house,” he grumbled, his voice rough as gravel, “but do you have any idea what time it is? We’ve got a smithy to run, and hammers aren’t going to swing themselves!”

  Despite his grousing, his eyes softened as he took them in—torn clothes, scraped armor, the weight of battle still clinging to them. He crossed his arms, sniffing in that very dwarfish way of hiding concern behind irritation.

  “From the look of you,” he muttered, “whoever you fought is in worse shape than you are. And if they aren’t, they should be.”

  Artemis barked a laugh from the couch, nearly rolling off it.

  “You’ve got that right, old timer.”

  Hela smirked, tilting her head toward the dwarf.

  “Don’t worry, Master Smith. We didn’t break anything you can’t fix.”

  Lokey smiled—tired, but genuine.

  “It’s good to be home.”

  The dwarf harrumphed and shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward into a smile he didn’t bother hiding.

  “Aye,” he said softly. “It’s good to have you lot back.”

  Lokey awoke the next morning to the scent of something warm and savory drifting through the house. For the first time in weeks, his body felt heavy—not from battle, but from real rest. The low crackle of the hearth fire and the soft clatter of cookware were the kinds of sounds that reminded him what home was supposed to feel like.

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  When he wandered into the kitchen, he found his sister already at work, with Tessa beside her—sleeves rolled up and a streak of flour across her cheek. Hela looked more at peace than Lokey had seen her in a long time, humming quietly as she stirred a pot while Tessa chopped herbs with practiced ease.

  It made him smile.

  After everything they had been through—the chains, the prejudice, the battles—Hela had found someone who saw her for who she truly was. And unlike their old world, there was no whisper of scorn, no sideways glances, no cruel words. People here didn’t care about such things. Life was too fragile, too precious, to waste on hatred.

  Lokey loved this world all the more for it.

  “You’re staring,” Hela teased without looking up.

  “Just glad you’re happy,” Lokey replied, grabbing a stool and sitting near the table.

  Tessa glanced at him and grinned.

  “She bosses me around too much, but I’ll keep her anyway.”

  “Hey!” Hela tossed a piece of bread at her, and Tessa caught it, laughing.

  The banter filled the kitchen—warm and easy—and for a brief moment, Lokey could almost forget about wars, priests, and dark undercrofts.

  Artemis stumbled in next, hair sticking out in every direction, still tugging on his shirt.

  “Is it breakfast,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, “or am I still dreaming?”

  “Depends,” Hela replied. “If you don’t sit down, you’ll be dreaming of an empty plate.”

  Artemis collapsed onto the bench beside Lokey with a groan.

  “You’d think saving a noble’s daughter would earn a man some respect in his own house.”

  “It earns you food if you survive Hela’s cooking,” Lokey shot back, earning another laugh from Tessa.

  The dwarf came down from his room at the sound of voices, muttering about lazy humans and soft mornings. But the corners of his beard twitched in a smile as he sat down. He’d seen the bruises and cuts on them all the night before. He knew well enough the kind of fight they’d been in—and the fact that they were all here, alive, breathing, together, was reason enough to stay quiet and let them enjoy their meal.

  Plates were set. Laughter rose and fell. And for a little while, the world outside their door could wait.

  The knock echoed before Hela could open her mouth.

  Lokey pushed his chair back and rose, crossing the room to the door.

  When it swung open, Asra stood there—her hair brushed but still loose around her shoulders, a faint bruise hidden beneath careful powder. Her eyes, though, shone bright.

  “Good morning,” she said softly. “I… I hope I’m not disturbing.”

  Artemis nearly fell off his seat.

  “Disturbing? You knocked?!” he barked, throwing his hands up. “You don’t have to knock on our door! Just come in next time!”

  Asra blinked, then giggled at his outburst.

  Lokey shook his head, smiling faintly.

  “I apologize for my brother—but he’s right. You don’t have to knock. You’re always welcome in my home.”

  The words hung there, heavier than he’d intended.

  Asra seemed to feel the weight behind them, because her cheeks colored and her gaze lowered for a moment before she stepped inside.

  “Thank you,” she murmured—and when she looked back up, it was only at Lokey.

  Hela caught Tessa’s eye over the fire, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Artemis leaned back with a smug grin, clearly ready to tease his brother later. But for now, the house settled again, warmth filling every corner as another place was made at the table.

  For the first time since the rescue, it almost felt like family.

  Asra slipped into a seat, Hela sliding a plate toward her while Tessa poured her a cup of steaming tea. The warmth of the little home wrapped around her, and for a brief moment, she let herself feel safe.

  But her father’s words still burned in her mind.

  “My father asked me to tell you what he’s learned,” she began, looking around the table. Her eyes softened when they landed on Lokey, but her voice stayed steady. “The King in the East has infiltrated the Onix Church. It’s worse than anyone thought. They plan on leaving our kingdom without the healers the Church provides when they’re needed most—abandoning everyone to be destroyed.”

  Artemis slammed his hand on the table, his temper flashing.

  “So they want to let the world rot, just to serve in some lizard’s empire?”

  Asra nodded grimly.

  “They believe that since they are one of the only sources of divine healing in the world—as one of the largest churches—they’ll rise to power in his new world and become the only church.”

  The room went quiet. Even Hela’s usual smirk faded into a cold, calculating frown.

  “But…” Asra leaned forward, lowering her voice, “there’s still hope. Brother Toby—he’s no longer preaching for the old Church. He’s placed his faith in another god, one that isn’t tainted by greed or politics. And he still keeps his gift of healing.”

  Lokey’s brows furrowed, but a small, proud smile tugged at his lips.

  “Then at least one good man came out of all this.”

  Asra’s eyes didn’t leave his as she said softly,

  “Maybe more than one.”

  The words lingered in the air like a spark waiting for flame.

  Lokey leaned back, meeting Asra’s gaze with the steady confidence that had once made him a leader in his old world. A faint smile touched his lips as he spoke.

  “Well, beautiful,” he said calmly, “then we’ll just have to get stronger. If the Church falls, the weight won’t crush us as badly. We can only protect our home here in Haven—but the rest of the kingdom…” He sighed, shaking his head. “They’ll be weakened, and we can’t save everyone. Not yet. But as long as Haven doesn’t fall, there’s still hope. We’ll find a way to protect our home.”

  Artemis grinned, the kind that carried both exhaustion and pride.

  “Now that sounds like the brother I know. Always planning to stand in the way of the storm.”

  Hela leaned back in her chair, her smirk returning.

  “Good. Because if the Church thinks it can burn our world down, it’s going to learn that Haven doesn’t break easy.”

  Asra smiled too—softer than the others—but a warmth bloomed in her chest at the sound of Lokey’s words. She felt like maybe—just maybe—everything could still be alright.