Inside the estate, the atmosphere was different. The servants had been restless since midday when news spread that the portal to the Silver Spire had vanished. Every rumor that reached them circled back to one name. So when the outer bell chimed softly — that distinct, measured tone that announced the master's own mana — half the household froze.

He stepped through the gate and into the long walkway leading to the main entrance. The marble underfoot reflected the fading sky, every step stirring faint echoes. The great doors opened before he could raise a hand. Celene stood there, her dark hair caught in the lamplight, eyes wide and almost disbelieving. "You're back," she breathed. Her voice trembled with both relief and pride.

He smiled, just enough for her to see. "Told you I would be."

Celene bowed her head, though her eyes shimmered. "Lady Seraphina will want to know immediately—"

"Let her," he murmured, stepping past her into the hall. The air inside was warm, filled with the soft scent of jasmine and parchment — Seraphina's scent. It lingered everywhere.

Upstairs, in her study, Seraphina Valemont froze mid-signature when the message came. A small crystal sphere on her desk pulsed once with light, carrying the words from the gatekeeper: He's returned.

Her pen fell from her fingers.

For a heartbeat, she simply sat there, staring at the parchment in front of her. Then, almost before she realized it, she was on her feet. The chair rolled back soundlessly; the long veil of her silver-white hair slipped free from its pin and spilled across her shoulders. She didn't bother fixing it. She was already moving.

The corridors of Valemont Mansion seemed brighter as she passed. Servants bowed aside, murmuring greetings, but she barely heard them. The measured rhythm of her steps grew faster with each turn until she was almost running. Her pulse fluttered against her throat. For days she'd told herself to stay calm, to trust him — but calm had been a lie. Every night she had stood at her window, staring toward the distant gleam of the Silver Spire, wondering if the light she saw was his or the dungeon's.

And now he was here.

At the foot of the staircase, she stopped, catching her breath as she saw him — framed in the glow of the foyer, head slightly bowed, the light of the chandeliers catching the edge of his golden badge. He looked up, and the sight of his face stole the air from her lungs.

Her composure cracked for an instant. The faint smile she'd practiced all morning dissolved into something raw and unguarded. "Xavier…" she whispered.

He watched her descend the stairs. Each step she took seemed slower, deliberate — the sway of her gown, the way her fingers brushed the banister, the soft click of heels against marble — graceful, commanding, and yet threaded with something tender. When she reached him, she stopped just within arm's reach. The silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile at once.

"I heard," she said quietly. "The Silver Spire… it's gone." Her gaze dropped to his chest, where the badge glowed faintly. "You really did it."

He nodded once, his voice calm but low. "It's finished."

Her eyes softened. "You never cease to amaze me." Then, after a small pause, she reached out — hesitant at first — and let her hand rest against his sleeve. The faint tremor in her touch betrayed what her tone hid. "You could have died."

"I didn't." The answer was simple, but the warmth behind it was not.

For a moment she only looked at him, eyes shimmering with relief. "You're impossible," she murmured. "Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights you've caused me?"

He smiled faintly. "Maybe a few more than necessary."

Her lips parted, but the words that followed were softer, almost swallowed. "I hate how easily you make me worry."

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to her hand still on his arm. "Then stop worrying," he said, and the sound of it made her breath catch.

The space between them tightened; his scent — smoke, steel, and the faint metallic sweetness of mana — wrapped around her. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest, warmth spreading up her neck. She didn't step back. Instead she looked up at him, eyes bright in the golden light. "You say that like it's easy."

"It is," he replied, his voice low. "Because I keep my promises."

She searched his eyes for a heartbeat longer, as if measuring that certainty. Then she smiled — small, genuine, and entirely undone. "Then welcome home, Xavier."

The words broke the tension just enough for him to lift a hand, brushing a strand of her hair from her face. The touch was light, almost reverent. "It's good to be home."

For a long moment, neither moved. The mansion seemed to hold its breath — the creak of wood, the faint rustle of curtains, the hum of mana wards all fading beneath the quiet pulse of two hearts reacquainting after too many days apart.

Celene watched from the doorway, smiling softly at the sight before slipping away without a word.

The dusk outside deepened, pouring through the windows in soft amber bands that crossed their faces like woven light. Seraphina's hand still rested on his sleeve; his thumb brushed her wrist, an unspoken promise in the gesture. When he finally spoke, his tone carried that same warmth.

"Let's go inside," he said. "There's much to tell."

She nodded, her composure returning with a faint, teasing smile. "And I'll be listening. But first—" her gaze flicked once more to the golden badge glinting at his chest, "—you owe me an explanation about this."

He chuckled quietly. "I'll tell you everything."

And as they walked side by side through the corridors of Valemont, the lamps brightening one by one with their passing, the city beyond their walls sank fully into night — unaware that its most dangerous protector had just come home.

The night settled over Velmora.

Soft wind brushed across the rooftops, carrying faint traces of incense, the smell of oil lamps, and the lingering hum of the city's unease.

Inside the House of Valemont, the halls were dimly lit — warm amber light spilling across polished marble and silk curtains that swayed lazily against the cool air.

Xavier sat near the open balcony, shirt half unbuttoned, the faint gleam of his golden badge glinting against his chest. The moonlight slipped past the curtain edge, casting silver across his face — sharp jawline, calm eyes, and the quiet confidence that came from surviving the impossible.

Across from him sat Seraphina, her long silver hair spilling down her shoulders, the faint shimmer of mana outlining her form. She had changed into a soft gown — simple, but it clung to her figure with a natural elegance that made her look less like a noble and more like a goddess caught in contemplation.

Celene lingered by the far wall, pretending to busy herself with notes, though her gaze kept drifting toward the two of them — unable to ignore the silent charge in the air.

"Tell me everything," Seraphina said at last, her voice soft, almost reverent.

She leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, the amber light painting her features in gentle shadow.

Xavier smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth tilting. "Where do I even start?"

"From the beginning," she said, "before the rumors reach me first."

He exhaled, rubbing his thumb along the edge of his dagger resting on the table. "The Silver Spire wasn't a dungeon. Not really. It was a test — something ancient, maybe even divine. The deeper I went, the less it felt like I was fighting monsters and more like I was… walking through someone's memory."

Seraphina's lips parted slightly, her voice a whisper. "Memory?"

He nodded. "The beasts, the golems, even the knights — they were fragments of a greater will. Like guardians made of regret and command. And at the end of it…"

He paused, looking out toward the moon. "It spoke to me."

Celene blinked, setting her quill down. "It… spoke?"

Xavier's tone didn't change — steady, grounded, but every word carried weight.

Seraphina's breath caught — a subtle sound, but Xavier heard it.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup in her hand

"It did."

The air seemed to thicken. The faint hum of the wards around the mansion grew sharper, almost in response to his mana signature. For a heartbeat, the entire room glowed with the faint silver pulse of moonlight before calming again.

Celene whispered under her breath, "Your aura… it feels heavier than before."

He looked down at his hand, the veins faintly illuminated beneath the skin. "It's different now. The Spire gave me something I can't fully name yet. Not power, exactly. Understanding."

Seraphina tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You've changed," she said softly. "You move differently. Even your mana feels… tempered. Refined."

He smiled faintly. "I'm stronger now."

****

A/N:

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