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Chapter 32 – Home
The path back to the farmhouse felt softer than Roland remembered, as though the land itself had been waiting for his return. Dew clung to every blade of grass, glimmering like tiny stars scattered across the earth. The morning sun painted the world gold, and in the distance, Verdalis shimmered with quiet life.
Roland approached the young sapling slowly, his boots sinking slightly into the moist soil. Her slender trunk had grown thicker since he'd last seen her, her leaves glittering faintly with a silvery-green hue that caught the sunlight like polished jade. Even the air around her seemed a touch warmer—alive with a faint hum of nature's magic.
He knelt by her roots and smiled softly.
"Missed me, didn't you?"
With a flick of his wrist, the Verdant Bracelet shifted, metal rippling into living wood until it formed a smooth watering can. Roland poured fresh water from his flask, infusing it with a light stream of mana. A soft drizzle of Farmer's Rain fell, each droplet shimmering faintly as it met the soil.
"I'm back, Verdalis," he said, his hand resting gently against her trunk. "Home again. I'll take care of you like always."
The sapling responded with a faint pulse of light—soft, rhythmic, like a heartbeat. Her leaves rustled despite the still air, almost like a sigh of welcome. Roland smiled wider, tracing the edge of her bark with careful fingers.
Nearby, Aeris stood in the tall grass, her wool glowing faintly in the sunlight. She gave a soft, approving bleat.
Maphala nuzzled Roland's shoulder, her polished wooden horns warm to the touch.
And Brontus, ever the quiet sentinel, gave a low rumble of approval that rolled through the field like distant thunder.
"I'm back," Roland repeated quietly. "And I'm not going anywhere. You'll grow strong, little one. We'll see how far you can go—together."
The water sank into the earth, shimmering faintly as mana flowed through the roots. Verdalis's leaves lifted toward the sky, drinking in both light and magic. It was a simple, gentle moment—one that made the whole world feel steady again.
He stood after a while, brushing soil from his hands. "Alright," he said to his companions, his smile returning. "Let's get to work. We've got a farm to look after."
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By midday, Roland had wandered to the riverbank. The sun was high, and the air shimmered with warmth. He stripped off his dusty shirt and waded into the cool current, sighing as the water closed over his shoulders.
Tiny Purifish darted toward him almost instantly—shimmering silver streaks that nibbled happily at the dirt clinging to his skin.
"Hey! That tickles!" he laughed, splashing playfully. "You little scavengers treating me like a walking buffet again?"
The fish darted around him faster, as though laughing back in rippling flashes of light. Roland leaned back, floating lazily on the surface. Above him, the clouds drifted slow and calm. Below, the Purifish darted like silver lightning. Around him, the hum of his land—the breath of Verdalis, the warmth of the sun, the faint bleating of Aeris—filled his chest with quiet peace.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he exhaled softly, eyes closing.
"Home," he whispered. "Feels good to say that again."
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That evening, the sun dipped low and painted the horizon in soft orange and pink. The scent of fresh soil, grass, and simmering broth filled the air. Roland stood by the outdoor hearth, stirring a bubbling pot that crackled merrily over the fire.
Steam rose thick and fragrant—wild herbs, tender vegetables, and a touch of roasted meat. The scent of it curled through the air like a promise of warmth.
Brontus lay nearby, massive and calm, his golden eyes reflecting the firelight.
Maphala rested at his side, her breath slow and even, horns glowing faintly like polished amber.
Aeris stood close to Roland, tail swishing idly as she watched him stir the pot with unblinking fascination.
And Sol—small, bright, and full of boundless energy—was circling the fire, his tail wagging furiously.
"Easy there, Sol," Roland chuckled. "It'll taste better if you let it cook all the way."
The pup gave a short, impatient bark and flopped onto the ground beside Aeris, his tail still sweeping in tiny arcs.
When the stew was ready, Roland ladled it into wooden bowls and handed them out. "Alright—dinner's served."
Brontus took his portion carefully, his deep voice a soft rumble. "The smell alone restores strength."
Maphala's smile was gentle and warm. "It's comforting, Roland. Everything tastes alive again."
"That's the idea," he replied with a grin. "Fresh soil, good herbs, and a bit of patience. That's the farmer's way."
Aeris took a tentative bite, her wool shimmering faintly in the firelight. Then she looked up, smiling shyly.
"It's… really good. I missed your cooking."
Roland froze mid-spoonful, eyes wide. "Aeris—did you just speak again?"
The little sheep froze too, her ears folding back in embarrassment. "I… um… maybe?"
Maphala chuckled, her voice rich with amusement. "Don't tease her too much. She's very shy when using the common tongue. She thinks her voice sounds childish."
Brontus let out a quiet, amused rumble. "She's less than two years old. Of course it does."
Aeris let out a tiny, flustered bleat and buried her face in her bowl, ears twitching furiously.
The sound made everyone laugh—Roland most of all. Even Sol perked up, tail thumping rapidly against the dirt.
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They ate together as night fell. The fire cracked softly, throwing flickering gold across their faces. Above, stars shimmered faintly, and from the nearby pond, Verdalis's soft emerald glow reflected in ripples as the Purifish darted lazily beneath the surface.
When the last bowl was emptied and the fire burned low, Roland leaned back, hands folded behind his head. The quiet stretched comfortably between them all—warm, familiar, and alive.
He looked at them—his family, his companions—and smiled softly.
"It's good to be home," he murmured.
Maphala's voice came like a lullaby. "Welcome home, Roland."
Sol gave a happy bark, curling beside his leg, and Aeris snuggled close, bleating once as if to agree.
Roland closed his eyes, letting the night settle around them.
The hum of Verdalis's roots, the rhythm of the water, and the quiet breaths of his family filled the air.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, everything was peaceful again.
Home—
warm, whole, and full of love.