Homecoming

—Kyra—

The tomb's entrance sealed behind them with a final, echoing groan. The sunlight felt too bright after days underground, and Kyra blinked rapidly, her golden eyes adjusting as she turned to examine Arman.

Her fingers ghosted over his arms, his chest, the new ridges of muscle along his stomach—searching for any sign that the transformation had left him wounded.

"Stop fussing," he muttered, though he didn't pull away.

"Shut up," she shot back, her ears flicking. "You were screaming for three days straight. I get to fuss."

He huffed but let her continue until she was satisfied.

"So," she said at last, stepping back. "Where to now?"

Arman stretched, rolling his shoulders. "We've got ten days before the academy starts." A pause. "How about we go to your place? See if there's anything left you know."

Kyra froze.

Her tail stiffened. Her claws pricked against her palms. The memories came unbidden—smoke, screams, the scent of burning fur. Her brother's body in the dirt. Chains around her wrists.

A hand settled on her shoulder.

"I'll be there this time," Arman said quietly.

She swallowed hard. Then nodded.

His fingers slid down—and yanked her tail.

"Aahhh!?" She jumped, whirling on him with her face burning. "Why did you do that!?"

"You were looking down," he said, smirking. "Wanted to cheer you up."

She glared, but her ears twitched. "It's sensitive there," she muttered. "…Do that somewhere more private next time."

Arman's smirk vanished. His face went blank—then flushed.

Kyra's grin returned, sharp and victorious. "So even the great Arman can make a face like that, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, turning away. "If there's anyone left you'd know, they'd be at the market hub village nearby. We'll go there first."

"…Okay," she said softly.

Kyra's Thoughts:

I couldn't go back before.

The carriage rattled beneath them, the rhythmic clop of hooves filling the silence. Kyra's grip on Arman's hand tightened.

After getting kidnapped I never even thought about returning, I'm scared, scared to remember, to relive what happened…

His thumb brushed over her knuckles. She hadn't even realized she was shaking.

But now…

Her eyes drifted to his face—the sharpened jawline, the flecks of starlight in his dark eyes. The way his fingers never left hers.

Now I'm not alone.

She curled closer, her tail wrapping around his wrist like an anchor.

Arman's POV

"Kyra."

She stirred against his shoulder, her ears twitching.

"We're here."

The Carriage Stop

The carriage wheels crunched to a halt on the overgrown path. Kyra hadn't realized she'd been gripping Arman's arm until he gently pried her claws free.

"This is as far as the road goes," the driver called. "You sure you want out here? Ain't nothing but wilds and old ruins for miles."

Arman shouldered their pack. "We're sure."

The moment her boots hit the dirt, Kyra's breath caught. The scent—pine resin and damp earth—was exactly as she remembered. Her claws unsheathed on instinct.

Arman's fingers brushed her wrist. "Breathe."

She did. Then took the first step toward the treeline.

The Forest Path

The woods had reclaimed the old hunter's trail. Brambles snagged at their clothes as they pushed through, the canopy filtering sunlight into jagged shards on the forest floor.

A twig snapped.

Arman's sword cleared its sheath before the emaciated wolf even emerged from the underbrush. Ribs protruded from its patchy fur, yellowed fangs bared in a snarl.

Kyra froze.

The beast lunged—

—and crumpled mid-leap, Arman's blade glinting crimson.

"It wouldn't have attacked before," Kyra whispered, staring at the matted fur. "When the woods were full of game…"

Arman wiped his sword on the grass. "Things changed."

Her tail flicked. "Not everything."

She led the way deeper in.

The Clearing

The sight punched the air from her lungs.

Charred timbers. Collapsed roof. The stone chimney standing sentinel over the wreckage like a grave marker. Moonbloom herbs still fought through the weeds in the garden, their silver leaves dusty but alive.

Kyra's knees hit the earth.

Arman didn't speak. Just began sifting through the ashes with his bare hands.

She joined him.

Their fingers found fragments:

• A half-melted cooking pot

• The iron latch from the front door

• A child's shoe, tiny and scorched

Then—

"Kyra."

Arman held up a tarnished pendant. The fox-and-moon crest was blackened but intact.

Her brother's naming-day gift.

The first sob tore through her like a lightning strike.

She collapsed onto her knees and covered her face.

Arman walked up from behind and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Comforting her silently…

They dug the grave at the edge of the garden, where her mother's roses once grew.

No bodies to bury. Just memories in a hole:

1. The pendant

2. A shard of their best dinnerware

3. A lock of Kyra's fur, cut with Arman's knife

When the last handful of dirt was patted down, Arman pressed his palm to the mound. "They must be happy to know that you're safe."

Kyra finally collapsed.

He caught her as she fell, her claws drawing blood through his shirt. Didn't flinch as she screamed into his chest. Just held on—an anchor in the storm.

"There's one last thing you need to see before we go"

She looked up, and after a brief moment just nodded slowly while silently trailing behind him, holding hands.

In the wreckage, a steel door stood untouched, now unhidden by the carpet she said was there before.

"I've never seen this before…"

He shrugged

"I saw it while we were scouring and thought we should check it out", he lied

There were no locks or anything to keep it safe so he lifted it up with minimal effort.

Arman shouldered their pack. "Whenever you're ready."

She looked at him surprised,"are you not comming with me" she had fear written all over her face.

He looked at her softly and whispered

"This is something that you must do on your own, I can't always be there to protect you"

He stroked her head one last time as she leaned in savoring his warmth, then turned around and descended the steps slowly…