ARCA ROAD - RETURN JOURNEY - DAY SIX
I came back quieter.
Not sad.
Not burdened exactly.
Just... rearranged.
The road home cut through low valleys and old farming villages, and for the first time in years I wasn't rushing toward war or away from disaster. The diplomatic mission had ended in a signed grain accord, a public mourning charter, and three emergency policy committees that would probably spend the next year arguing over storage capacity and collective restitution law.
In other words:
success.
A real one.
Messy. Incomplete. Human.
My favorite kind.
Shadow rode ahead in silence, occasionally vanishing entirely and then reappearing half a mile later like a nightmare with excellent posture.
The escort guards had finally relaxed enough to stop treating every roadside sheep as a possible assassin.
I should have felt triumphant.
Instead, I felt... thoughtful.
Like something inside me had shifted one inch to the left and now everything looked slightly different.
