Elias adjusted the straps of his bag for the third time that morning, glancing at the girl trailing a few paces behind him. Rhea wasn't skipping stones or climbing trees today. No sudden outbursts of "Why is the sun so smug-looking?" or declarations of war against squirrels.
She was quiet.
Too quiet.
Elias slowed his pace to let her catch up. "You're not plotting to set fire to a bakery again, are you?"
Rhea blinked at him, then gave a soft snort. "That was once. And technically, I only threatened to set fire. There was no ignition."
"That oven exploded," he reminded her.
"I said technically."
They walked in silence for a while longer. The forest path had always been her playground. She used to skip, stumble, trip, and laugh like a storm trapped in a child's body. But ever since the encounter with the shadowed figure—her former general—something had shifted.
The Rhea walking beside him now was straighter, quieter, and… thoughtful.
It was deeply unsettling.
"So," Elias tried, his voice casual. "Are we going to talk about your first command?"
"No."
"You told a terrifying former demon general to protect me."
"I was being strategic."
"You blushed."
"I did not."
"You did. Your ears lit up like twin tomatoes."
"That doesn't even make sense."
Elias chuckled, and that at least earned him a sideways glare that was more familiar. She still had her spark—it was just tempered now, like steel cooling in water.
They reached the edge of town by late afternoon. The rooftops came into view through the trees, painted golden under the sun. The town's usual sleepy energy was still there, but Elias felt the weight of returning differently. He hadn't told anyone where they went. He wasn't even sure they were welcome anymore.
Rhea stopped walking just before the clearing.
Elias turned to face her. "Hey. You okay?"
"I feel…" She trailed off, eyes narrowing. "Lighter. But heavier. I remember more now. Not everything, just… flickers. And when I see the houses, the people, I feel like a crack in a window. Like one wrong breath and I'll break."
He reached out and squeezed her hand.
"You're not a crack," he said. "You're glass forged in fire. You'll hold."
Rhea blinked again. "That was… oddly poetic. Are you okay?"
"I've been hanging out with you too long."
They resumed walking, though Rhea now held his hand tightly. It wasn't like before, when she clung like a scared child. This was steadier, grounded—like an anchor.
The townsfolk noticed them almost immediately.
Whispers. Stares.
Elias heard someone mutter, "Is that the kid with the cursed eyes?"
Another voice, louder: "I thought they ran."
Rhea's grip twitched, but she didn't let go.
Then, as they passed the bakery, old Mistress Harna stepped out. The same woman who once scolded Rhea for levitating pastries and nearly lighting a tray on fire with her finger.
"Back, are you?" Harna asked, eyeing them.
Rhea stepped forward. She bowed.
"I'm sorry for… everything," she said. "I was careless. I didn't mean to scare anyone."
Harna sniffed. "Well, you did scare my cat. Twice."
"…Sorry to the cat too."
The old woman looked between them, then huffed. "Bah. If you're back, you might as well earn your keep. Come sweep the backroom tomorrow. No levitating the broom this time."
"…Deal," Rhea said, blinking in surprise.
Elias laughed as they walked on. "Progress."
"Apology accepted by cat owner. Status: one percent town redemption unlocked."
They passed the school gates next. A few students saw them. One of them, Lina—the shy elf girl Rhea had befriended—ran up and flung her arms around Rhea.
"Where were you?! I thought you were expelled or… worse!"
Rhea, clearly unsure what to do, patted her back awkwardly. "I'm… okay now. I think."
"You missed the lantern painting contest! And the caramel apple fight! It was epic!"
Elias leaned down. "Caramel apple fight?"
"It's a tradition," Lina said solemnly. "Sticky warfare."
As they chatted, Elias noticed someone watching from the rooftop across the street. The cloaked figure. The general. Still nearby, guarding from the shadows. Rhea noticed too—her eyes flickered with knowing calm.
Later that evening, back at home, Rhea sat at the kitchen table, drawing strange symbols into her notebook.
Elias raised a brow. "Homework?"
"Runic stabilization mapping," she said. "So I don't accidentally burn anything tomorrow."
"That's… weirdly responsible of you."
"I had a dream last night," she said softly, not looking up. "The adult me. She was crying. Screaming. Surrounded by fire and ashes. And she said, 'You can still change it. You can still be someone else.'"
Elias sat down across from her. "That's good, right? A sign?"
"Maybe. Or maybe a warning."
He reached over, gently ruffling her hair.
"Whatever it is, we'll face it together. Even if I get turned into a mushroom or something."
She smirked. "I promise not to mushroom you. Probably."
They stayed at the table late into the evening. For once, there were no fireballs, no dramatic monologues, no dramatic magical freakouts.
Just quiet scribbling.
Just the sound of two people, not quite family, not quite strangers, figuring things out.
To be continued…