A NEW DAY

The morning sun spilled across the windows of the Mythic Base, gilding the dining hall with warmth and light. A soft breeze stirred the white curtains, and the usual hush of early hours was replaced by a gentle buzz—quiet laughter, clinking dishes, and the occasional teasing remark.

For the first time in days, the full group of Mythics had gathered again. The long wooden table was alive with conversation. Fresh bread, fruit bowls, and tea kettles adorned its length, and despite the healing wounds, the room hummed with renewed spirit.

Arslan sat near the center of the table, and beside him—looking healthier than before—was Nirela Quen. The paleness from her injury was gone, replaced by a soft flush on her cheeks. She had insisted on sitting beside him. Her arm brushed his from time to time, but neither said anything about it.

Across from them, Seris Vahla, her arm still lightly bandaged, was waving a fork while retelling her version of the ZARELLE fight.

> Seris: "I told you all—when I dipped under that Abyssal Rat's swipe, I landed a kick straight to its ugly jaw. It yelped like a drunk goat."

Tharion chuckled while chewing.

> Tharion: "That's not what happened. You slipped on its slime and accidentally headbutted it."

Seris gasped.

> Seris: "Traitor!"

Yuna Solthrae, sipping her tea, smiled softly.

> Yuna: "Whatever happened, you both made it out alive. That's what matters."

Zhalya Neris, running her fingers through her red hair, leaned in.

> Zhalya: "Arslan, you didn't just make it out—you saved the entire battlefield. What you did out there was... unreal."

The group fell briefly silent. All eyes shifted to Arslan, who had been mostly quiet until now. He looked around at each of them—his team, his family.

> Arslan: "We all survived because we fought together. Without you all holding ZARELLE back before I arrived… things could've ended differently."

Vaelith Ren raised a glass.

> Vaelith: "To surviving—and to better tomorrows."

Everyone echoed a cheer, clinking glasses and mugs, smiles breaking the shadows of recent pain.

After a while, Arslan wiped his hands and stood up.

> Arslan: "I need to head out for a bit. My mother's moving to her new place in the Upper District today."

Ravik Durn gave a nod.

> Ravik: "About time. That woman raised a legend."

> Nirela (quietly): "Tell her we're grateful for giving us someone like you."

Arslan gave her a small smile—a shared look of warmth before he left the room.

The Upper District of Lumisgrave stood in sharp contrast to the older, crowded parts of the city. The homes here were grand—clean white walls, polished stone paths, and crystalline lanterns that glowed softly even in daylight. Gardens bloomed in neat patterns, birds chirped from wrought-iron fences, and water channels trickled between courtyards.

Arslan's mother, wrapped in a pale green shawl, stood outside her new home, her eyes wide with amazement. She turned quickly when she saw Arslan approaching, her face lighting up.

> Mother: "Arslan! You came!"

He embraced her tightly.

> Arslan: "Of course. I wouldn't miss this."

> Mother: "Look at this place... Arslan, it's beautiful. I never imagined I'd live here."

> Arslan (smiling): "You deserve it. The King saw that too."

They stepped inside together. The house was simple but elegant—vaulted ceilings, clean walls, and glass windows that gave a view of the distant mountains. Arslan carried boxes inside while his mother dusted shelves and hummed an old lullaby.

They laughed over memories found in old trunks—a cracked tea cup, faded photos, and a small wooden toy Arslan once carved when he was eight.

> Mother (teasing): "You still brood like that little boy who got scolded for climbing roofs."

> Arslan: "And you still worry too much."

> Mother (smiling): "That's a mother's job."

As noon approached, she served a warm lunch of spiced rice, lentils, and buttered flatbread. They sat on the carpeted floor, plates balanced on low stools, and ate in peace.

> Mother: "I heard… from the neighbors… about the battle."

> Arslan: "It was hard. But we won."

> Mother (gently): "And you? You're not hurt?"

> Arslan: "No. Just tired."

> Mother: "You've grown so strong. But even strong people need rest. And love."

Arslan looked away for a moment, a soft breath escaping his lips.

> Arslan: "I'm learning that."

He told her about the dinner invitation from the King.

> Arslan: "He's invited all of us—Mythics—to the palace tonight."

> Mother (tearing up slightly): "My son… dining with royalty."

> Arslan (grinning): "It's not as glamorous as it sounds. But I'll make sure to wear something nice."

As Arslan walked out of his mother's new home later that afternoon, Kar'Thæl's voice returned, soft but proud.

> Kar'Thæl (whispering): "They trust you now. You've come a long way."

> Arslan: "They moved her. My mother... They moved her to the Upper District."

> Kar'Thæl: "And not just that. Tonight, they open the gates of the royal palace to you. Arslan… they no longer see us as threats."

> Arslan: "You helped me earn that trust."

> Kar'Thæl (chuckling): "We helped each other. But I must admit… I'm proud of you, Vessel."

> Arslan: "Thank you... And Kar'Thæl?"

> Kar'Thæl: "Hmm?"

> Arslan: "Don't ever leave again."

> Kar'Thæl: "Only if you don't go around hurting those who care about you."

Arslan laughed quietly, the first true laugh in days.

> Kar'Thæl: "Tonight's dinner... might be political. Be careful what you say. But do enjoy the food."

> Arslan: "I'll enjoy it. But first—I need to train."

> Kar'Thæl: "That's more like it."