Three Days Later. Late Afternoon.
Grog saw the column before they saw him.
He'd been walking since before dawn, pushing hard, the apple's gift burning in his blood. Three days of travel compressed into two. His body hummed with energy, but underneath it, something deeper—the knowledge Kevin had given him, settling into his bones like a second skeleton.
The column stretched across a valley below.
Hundreds of soldiers. Wagons. Supplies. The slow, steady movement of an army on the march. Tents being packed. Fires being extinguished. The ordinary chaos of another day on the road.
Grog stopped at the tree line.
Watched.
Somewhere down there, Aldric was waking up. Lira was scouting ahead. Mirena was buried in books. They'd been marching for weeks without him.
They're alive, he thought. Still alive.
He stepped out of the trees.
---
The first person to see him was a scout he didn't recognize.
Young. Wiry. Nervous. The boy's hand went to his knife when Grog appeared—then stopped. Recognition flickered across his face.
"You're—" He swallowed. "You're Grog. The one who left."
"Yes."
"The captain's going to want to see you."
"I know."
The scout hesitated. Then nodded. Turned and jogged toward the column, leaving Grog to follow at his own pace.
---
He walked through the camp.
Soldiers stopped to stare. Some recognized him—nods, murmurs, the occasional grunt of greeting. Others just watched, curious, wondering who this stranger was and why he looked like he'd walked through hell to get here.
Grog ignored them all.
His eyes searched for one face.
---
He found Aldric at the cookfire.
The boy was sitting on a log, bowl in hand, laughing at something someone had said. He looked different—older, harder, more defined. Weeks of marching had carved new lines into his face.
Then he looked up.
Saw Grog.
The bowl fell from his hands.
---
Aldric crossed the distance in seconds.
Grog braced himself for... he didn't know what. A hug? A punch? A lecture?
Aldric stopped a foot away.
Stared at him.
"You're back," he said. His voice was rough.
"Yes."
"You were gone for weeks."
"Yes."
"You didn't send word. Didn't tell us where you were going. Didn't—" Aldric's voice cracked. He stopped. Swallowed.
Grog waited.
Then Aldric hugged him.
Hard. Fierce. The kind of hug that said everything words couldn't. Grog stood frozen for a moment—then, slowly, hugged back.
"I'm here," he said quietly. "I'm back."
Aldric pulled away. His eyes were wet, but he was smiling.
"You're an idiot," he said.
"I know."
"A complete idiot."
"I know."
"Don't ever do that again."
Grog almost smiled. Almost.
"I'll try."
---
Lira appeared moments later.
She must have been nearby—heard the commotion, sensed something. She walked straight up to Grog, looked him up and down, and punched him in the arm.
Hard.
"That's for leaving without telling me everything." She punched him again. "That's for being gone so long." A third punch. "That's for making us worry."
Grog took it. Didn't flinch.
When she stopped, she hugged him too. Quick and fierce.
"Idiot," she muttered into his shoulder.
"I know."
She pulled away. Grinned.
"Good to have you back."
---
Mirena arrived last.
She walked slowly, deliberately, her eyes taking in everything. The new sword at his hip. The shield on his back. The pack full of Aldric's gear. The way he stood—different than before. Harder. More settled.
"You found something," she said.
Not a question.
Grog nodded.
"Later," he said. "When we can talk."
Mirena studied him for a moment. Then nodded.
"Good." She turned. Walked away. "Aldric, stop crying and come train. You've missed two days."
Aldric's face reddened. "I wasn't crying."
"You were."
"Was not."
Lira laughed. The sound was warm and real.
Grog stood in the middle of it all, surrounded by people who'd missed him, who were glad he was back, who hadn't stopped living while he was gone.
This, he thought. This is what I was fighting for.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Voren wanted a report. Grog gave him a carefully edited version—monster, village, rings, but nothing about Kevin, the void, or the berserker. Some things were need-to-know. Voren didn't need to know.
The captain accepted it. Grunted. Told him to get rest and be ready to fight. War was coming soon.
Grog nodded. Left.
---
He found Aldric at sunset.
The boy was alone, sitting on a log at the edge of camp, staring at the trees. His new gear—the armor, the sword, the shield—lay beside him. He'd been examining it all afternoon.
Grog sat beside him.
"They're beautiful," Aldric said quietly. "The armor. The sword. All of it. I've never seen anything like them."
"They're yours."
Aldric looked at him. His eyes were young and old at the same time.
"Why?"
Grog considered the question.
"Because you're going to need them. Because Kevin's order made them for someone like you." He paused. "Because I believe in you."
Aldric's face did something complicated. Gratitude. Fear. Hope. All tangled together.
"I don't know if I can do this," he whispered. "Be a hero. Make the right choice when it matters. Be strong enough."
Grog looked at him.
"I know," he said. "That's why you will."
They sat together as the sun set.
---
That night, around a small fire, Grog told them everything.
Not the whole camp—just the four of them. Aldric. Lira. Mirena. Himself. The fire crackled. The darkness pressed close. He talked for hours.
The monster. The berserker. The rings. Kevin. The crystal. The void. The door.
When he finished, silence settled over them like snow.
Mirena spoke first.
"A way to close the door from the other side," she said slowly. "To enter the void and come back." She looked at Grog. "That's suicide."
"Probably."
"And you're going to try anyway."
Grog met her eyes.
"If I have to."
Lira shook her head. "You're all insane." But she was smiling. "Good thing we are too."
Aldric said nothing. Just stared into the fire.
After a long moment, he looked up.
"When the time comes," he said quietly, "I'm going with you."
Grog started to object.
Aldric held up a hand.
"It's my choice. My darkness. My door." His voice was steady. "If someone has to go into the void, it's going to be me."
Grog looked at him. At the boy who'd become a man while he was gone. At the hero he was becoming.
"Okay," he said.
Aldric nodded.
They sat together, four people facing impossible odds, holding onto each other in the darkness.