the same day as the previous chapter.
The sun was lowering, casting long spears of red and gold across the stones of the Enclave.It was a quiet evening — the kind that made even the broken ruins feel almost peaceful, as if the place remembered when it had been whole.
Fen sat cross-legged by a small fire behind the western tower, idly tossing dry twigs into the flames.
Across from him, Rell — his grandfather — leaned back against a worn piece of masonry, whittling a thin strip of wood into the shape of a bird.
Neither spoke for a while, content in the silence. The crackle of fire, the occasional caw of a crow circling overhead, the faint clatter of Cael and Iris moving somewhere deeper in the Enclave — it all formed a rhythm, a heartbeat of a world that stubbornly refused to die.
Finally, Rell looked up from his carving.
"So," he said, voice rough with age but steady. "What's next for you, boy?"
Fen blinked, caught off guard.He poked the fire aimlessly for a moment before answering.
"I was thinking..." he said slowly, "that I'd stay. With you."
Rell arched a shaggy eyebrow but said nothing, waiting.
Fen pressed on, words gaining strength as he spoke them aloud for the first time.
"Maybe rebuild the old place. Clear out the well, fix the roof, get the fields growing again. You know... make it livable."
He grinned sheepishly.
"Never been much for grand adventures anyway."
Rell chuckled, a low rumble like distant thunder.
"Not much for adventure," he repeated, shaking his head. "You, who took the Trial, fought beasts twice your size, lived through things most boys would piss themselves facing?"
Fen shrugged.
"I did what I had to. Doesn't mean I want to keep doing it."
He picked up a stone and tossed it into the fire, watching the sparks rise.
"I just want..."He hesitated.
"I just want a home again," he finished quietly.
The fire crackled between them.
Rell set his carving aside, leaning forward slightly.
"You know," he said, "when I was your age, I thought just like you."
Fen looked up, surprised.
Rell nodded.
"After the wars, all I wanted was a patch of land, a roof that didn't leak, a fire that didn't die in the night. A place where no one came looking for blood or debt or revenge. A place I could call home."
His voice grew softer.
"And for a time, I had it."
He stared into the fire, seeing something far away.
"Your grandmother and I — we built something. Small, simple, but ours."
A long pause.
"And then the world came knocking again. Like it always does."
He smiled sadly, the lines on his weathered face deepening.
"No one stays untouched forever, boy. No matter how strong the walls. No matter how deep you bury yourself."
Fen swallowed hard.
"I don't care," he said stubbornly. "Let the world come. I'll build something stronger, I swear."
Rell chuckled again, but there was no mockery in it.
"That's good," he said. "You should fight for what you want in life."
He leaned back, gazing up at the bruised-purple sky.
"But listen, Fen. Really listen."
Fen sat up straighter, sensing the weight behind his grandfather's words.
"I already lived my life," Rell said. "Fought my wars. Loved and lost. Made my peace with the ghosts."
He tapped a gnarled finger against his chest.
"My story's almost done. Yours..." — he pointed the same finger at Fen — "is just beginning."
The fire popped, sending a small flurry of sparks into the darkening sky.
"You can't build your future in my shadow," Rell said. "You have to find your own path. Walk it with your own feet."
Fen looked down at his hands — scarred, strong, young.
"But I don't want to leave you behind," he muttered.
Rell smiled gently.
"You're not leaving me behind," he said. "You're honoring me by living free."
Fen felt something tighten in his chest.
He hated this.
Hated the thought of stepping into a world that had already taken so much from him.
But he hated the idea of wasting his chance even more.
He looked up at Rell, really looked — at the deep lines, the silver hair, the eyes that had seen too much and still burned with stubborn life.
"You'll be okay?" he asked, voice rough.
Rell barked a short laugh.
"Me? Hell, I'll be better than okay. I've got the Enclave's best cook and the ruins of a thousand years to keep me busy."
Fen snorted despite himself.
They sat for a while longer in comfortable silence, the fire between them a small island of warmth against the coming night.
Finally, Rell reached across and clapped Fen's shoulder, his grip firm.
"Make me proud, boy," he said.
"I will, I promise." Fen whispered.
Later, after the fire had burned low and the stars blanketed the sky, Fen wandered through the ruins alone, thinking.
He thought about what home meant.About what it meant to choose your battles instead of having them chosen for you.About the road ahead — full of dangers he couldn't yet see.
He thought about Cael, about Iris, about the strange, broken little family they'd stumbled into.
He thought about Sidney Reilly, lying unconscious, a mystery wrapped in scars and lies.
And most of all, he thought about Rell — the stubborn old man who had taught him that survival wasn't the same as living.
When he finally lay down to sleep, Fen made himself a promise.
He would build something.
Not just walls or farms or fortunes.
Something better.
Something worth fighting for.
Something that couldn't be taken away — not by beasts, not by kings, not even by the gods.
In the distance, beyond the black hills and broken plains, something moved.
A shadow on horseback.
A rider bearing news that would shatter what little peace they had left.
But for now, the Enclave slept peacefully.
And the fire in Fen's heart burned on.