“Wait—” Thane’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and low. Protective. Commanding.
But I don’t. I don’twantto wait.
I touch the handle.
Behind me, Stellan chuckles under his breath. “Of course she does.”
And then I pull the door open.
A small family stands at the threshold, and my breath catches in my throat.
The woman is perhaps forty, with weathered hands and kind eyes that crinkle at the corners. Her partner stands beside her—broad-shouldered and solid, with the quiet strength of someone who works with his hands. And between them, a boy who can't be more than sixteen, all wide eyes and uncertain hope.
The boy sees it first—the Ether pulsing gently around me, yet still calm, almost expectant. He whispers something urgent to his parents, pointing.
And then, all three of them kneel.
“Please, please don’t do that,” I stammer, stepping back. “Get up, I don’t—”
“You’re the Source,” the woman says, voice thick with emotion. “The one who called us home.”
“I didn’t call anyone,” I protest, but my voice sounds small even to me. “I’m not—I still don’t know what this place even is.”
The woman rises slowly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “But you are. The Ether wouldn’t have awakened if you weren’t.” She reaches out like she wants to touch me, then stops herself. “Most didn’t believe it was real. Said the old bloodlines were gone, that the sanctuaries would never wake again. But we heard your call, love. Clear as anything.”
She gestures to her family. “We’ll earn our keep. I cook—I’m good at it, learned from my grandmother before her hands gave out. My husband can work the land, fix what needs fixing. The boy’ll do whatever’s needed.”
The man nods—quiet, respectful. The boy stands taller, pride flickering through his nervousness.
“We didn’t come to be served,” she finishes. “We came to serve something that’s been waiting a long, long time.”
My chest tightens.Not this. Not more people expecting me to lead something I don’t understand. Not kindness I haven’t earned.
I take a half step back, voice cracking. “I don’t—I don’t have anywhere to put you. I don’t even know how to—”
The words die in my throat as the Ether responds.
A ribbon of silver mist curls out from around my feet, flowing across the garden path like water following a channel. We all watch, breath held, as it slips between the trees and gathers over a patch of empty earth.
The mist swirls once, twice, then slowly dissipates.
In its place stands a small house.
It's modest but beautiful—stone walls that match the sanctuary, windows that catch the afternoon light, a door painted the same blue as the sky. Like it's always been there. Like it belongs.
The woman gasps, pressing both hands to her mouth. Her partner reaches out blindly, gripping her shoulder for support. The boy just stares, mouth hanging open.
The woman steps forward, eyes shining with tears.
“We meant it—we’ll earn our keep,” she says, voice trembling but sure.
I try to speak, but emotion clogs my throat. Because this—people wanting to stay, wanting to help, wanting to build something together—undoes something in me I didn't know was broken.
I nod, smiling shakily. "Okay. Then welcome home."
The woman starts crying in earnest then, and her partner's stern expression softens into something approaching disbelief. The boy grins like I've just handed him the sun.
"I'm Mairen," the woman says, wiping her eyes. "This is my husband Torn, and our son Kellan. We've been searching for so long..."
