The sky was dimming, soft streaks of violet chasing the sun as Kael reached the edge of the Gulch. The wind tugged at his cloak, cool against the sweat still clinging to his back.
The mission was done.
The corrupted beast was gone.
No one had seen his face.
But the mask still sat unnervingly heavy in his coat pocket—colder now, like it knew it didn't belong here. Not in this place. Not in this life.
He pushed open the old gate, the hinges creaking in a way he always meant to fix. His boots brushed a single flower growing defiantly by the steps—one Mira had planted months ago. Still alive. Still blooming. Just like her.
Inside, the house welcomed him with quiet warmth.
The scent of herbs and fried rice drifted in from the kitchen. The low buzz of the TV filled the background like a heartbeat. And then—laughter. Light. Joyful. Real.
Alia.
For just a second, Kael paused in the hallway.
This.
This part of his life—the warmth, the love, the ordinary wonder of it—this was what he couldn't afford to lose.
He stepped into the living room silently, standing in the doorway like a silent witness to something sacred.
Mira was sitting on the floor, hair mussed from chasing Alia around earlier. She wore one of his oversized tunics—sleeves rolled up, eyes a little tired but glowing. The kind of glow that comes from being needed. From being loved.
Alia lay on the rug, completely absorbed in the cartoon on the screen. An animated knight swung a glowing sword, and her little legs kicked excitedly in rhythm.
Kael just… watched. As if his presence might disrupt the peace.
"You're home early," Mira said, without turning. Her voice held a gentle tease. "What happened? The scary beasts turn out to be puppies again?"
Kael allowed himself a faint smirk. "Close enough."
At the sound of his voice, Alia spun around—eyes wide, face lighting up.
"Papa!"
She sprinted to him, barreling into his legs. Kael dropped to one knee and folded her safely into his arms, holding her like she might slip away if he loosened his grip.
He kept his face down, buried in her hair.
He didn't speak.
He wasn't sure he could, not without giving something away.
Dinner was simple but warm—the kind of meal that felt like home more than anything fancy could. Afterward, Mira finally wrangled Alia into her pajamas and plopped her onto the couch again. The three of them curled up under a shared blanket, framed in soft light, like a snapshot he never wanted to end.
Kael sat between them—Alia nestled into his right side, Mira against his left.
The news hummed in the background, the anchor's voice a blur until—
"...an unusual report out of the North Forest tonight..."
Kael's fingers twitched.
The anchor's voice dipped, becoming more serious.
"Several witnesses claim a masked figure single-handedly brought down a corrupted beast. Guild sources haven't confirmed anything—yet—but the stories are spreading."
Mira leaned forward. Alia perked up.
"Witnesses described him as cloaked in black mist. Silent. Deadly. A man wielding a ghostly blade, one who vanished as quickly as he arrived."
A dramatic pause.
"Some are calling him: The Reaper with the Blade of Shadows."
Alia gasped.
"Papa! Did you hear that?! That sounds so cool! Like—like a spooky hero!"
Kael didn't react. Not at first.
Then, softly: "Yeah. I heard."
"You think he's real?"
He looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Maybe."
"I hope I meet him someday!" Alia whispered, clutching the blanket. "I'd ask him to teach me how to use a sword. Then I could protect Mama too!"
Kael reached over, ruffling her hair gently.
"You won't need anyone to teach you, sweetheart," he said. "You're going to be stronger than all of them."
She giggled, cheeks glowing.
Mira looked over, skeptical. "You're being weird. Did something happen out there?"
Kael met her eyes for just a heartbeat.
"Just wolves," he replied, steady voice betraying nothing. "Nothing worth worrying about."
But his hand slipped back into his coat pocket.
And curled tightly around the cold metal of the mask.
Later, after Mira had drifted off beside him and the news turned into forgettable politics, Kael stood and scooped a half-asleep Alia into his arms.
Her head leaned on his shoulder, breath warm against his neck.
In her room, he laid her gently down and pulled the blanket over her. Just as he turned to leave, he paused... and reached into his coat.
He pulled out a pendant.
Silver. Worn where fingers had clutched it too many times. Simple, small.
It had belonged to Mira once.
He knelt beside the bed and placed the chain into Alia's tiny hands.
She blinked, confused but curious. "What's this, Papa?"
Kael took a breath—deep, quiet, steady.
"Any time you feel scared, or alone... like the world's too big…" he said softly, "look at this."
He curled her fingers around it.
"And remember that your mama and papa love you more than anything—more than all the stars in the sky."
Alia looked up at him, quiet and small.
She didn't really understand—not yet. But she nodded anyway.
"Okay."
Kael kissed her forehead, brushed her hair from her face, and tucked her in. Then he stood in the doorway, watching her breathe, watching the pendant rise and fall on her chest.
And turned off the light.
Mira stirred when he sat back on the couch.
She leaned into him slowly, gaze clouded with sleep.
"You're hiding something," she mumbled.
No accusation—just weary understanding.
He didn't say a word.
She didn't push.
She never did.
The moonlight streamed through the curtains, painting pale silver shapes across the wooden floor.
Kael stared at the black mirror of the unplugged TV. No mask. No glowing eyes. Just his own face reflected back at him.
A man. A father. A husband.
Desperately holding together a life that felt more fragile with every passing day.
Tomorrow, the hunt would start again. Leads to chase. Secrets to uncover. Shadows to trace back to their source.
But tonight?
Tonight, he was just Kael.
And that... that was enough.
To be continued...