The Saturday sun hung low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the quiet suburban street as Evan pulled up to his parents’ house. The driveway was the same as always—his dad’s old truck parked neatly to one side, the flower boxes his mom tended bursting with late-season blooms. But the sight of it felt heavier today, like the weight of what he was walking into was pressing against his chest before he’d even stepped out of the car.

  He cut the engine, sitting there for a moment as he ran a hand through his hair. His body still carried the dull ache of his time in Velanthor, but it was nothing compared to the knot tightening in his stomach. He’d missed Jason—God, he missed his son—but there was no pretending this visit was just about picking him up. His mom’s voice on the phone earlier in the week had been calm, but the edges of it were frayed, like she was trying to hold something back. And Evan knew exactly what that meant.

  Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his keys and stepped out of the car, the late afternoon air cool against his skin. His boots crunched on the gravel as he walked up to the front door, and before he could knock, it swung open.

  Jason burst out first, a blur of energy and excitement, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his sneakers barely tied. “Dad!” he yelled, his face lighting up as he launched himself forward.

  Evan barely had time to brace himself before Jason collided with his legs, wrapping him in a tight hug. The boy’s laughter was infectious, and despite everything weighing on him, Evan couldn’t help but smile as he crouched down to hug him back.

  “Hey, buddy,” he said, ruffling Jason’s hair. “Miss me?”

  “Obviously,” Jason replied with an exaggerated eye roll, though the grin on his face betrayed him. “Grandma’s been making me eat so many vegetables. I need pizza. Like, now.”

  Evan laughed, standing up and slinging an arm around Jason’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ve got pizza covered. But first—where’s Grandma and Grandpa?”

  Jason’s grin dimmed slightly, and he glanced back toward the house. “Grandpa’s in the living room. He’s... he’s been kinda tired today.”

  The knot in Evan’s stomach tightened. He gave Jason’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Thanks for telling me, pal. Why don’t you grab your stuff and wait in the car? I’ll be out in a bit.”

  Jason hesitated but nodded, his usual energy subdued as he slipped past Evan and headed back toward the car. Evan watched him go, then turned and stepped inside.

  The house smelled faintly of lavender, one of his mom’s favorite cleaning products. It was quiet, except for the faint hum of the television coming from the living room. His mom appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her face lit up when she saw him, but the tiredness in her eyes was unmistakable.

  “Evan,” she said, pulling him into a hug. She held on for a moment longer than usual, and he could feel the tension in her shoulders. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too, Mom,” he said, pulling back to study her face. “How’s Dad?”

  Her smile faltered, and she glanced toward the living room. “He’s... resting. It’s been a hard week. The pain’s worse, and he’s been more confused than usual. The doctor thinks it’s time for another stint in respite care.”

  Evan nodded, his jaw tightening. “How’s he holding up?”

  Her lips pressed together, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry. But then she straightened, putting on the same brave face she always did. “He’s hanging in there. You know your father—he doesn’t like to complain. But it’s been hard on him. On all of us.”

  Evan reached out, squeezing her hand. “I’ll talk to him. And... I’ll be around more. I know I’ve been—”

  She cut him off with a soft shake of her head. “You’re doing your best, Evan. We all know that. Just go see him.”

  He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, and stepped into the living room.

  His dad was in his usual armchair, a blanket draped over his legs and the remote resting on the armrest. The TV was on, tuned to some old western, but Robert Carter’s eyes were closed, his head tilted slightly to the side. He looked smaller than Evan remembered, his once-broad shoulders now sunken, his skin pale and thin. The sight hit Evan like a punch to the gut.

  “Dad?” he said softly, stepping closer.

  Robert’s eyes fluttered open, and it took a moment for them to focus. When they did, a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Evan,” he rasped, his voice weaker than Evan had ever heard it. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

  Evan pulled up a chair, sitting close enough to rest a hand on his father’s arm. “Thought I’d swing by and pick up Jason. And check on you.”

  Robert chuckled weakly, though it turned into a cough that made Evan’s chest tighten. “I’m fine, son. Don’t you worry about me.”

  “Dad...” Evan hesitated, his throat tightening. “Mom said you’ve had a rough week. I just... I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Robert’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he patted Evan’s. “You’ve got a good heart, kiddo. Always have. But you don’t need to carry this weight. Your mom and I... we’ve been through a lot. We’ll get through this too.”

  Evan swallowed hard, his chest aching. “You don’t have to do it alone, Dad. I’m here. I’ll be here.”

  Robert’s eyes gleamed with something that might have been pride, and he gave a small nod. “I know you will. And that means more to me than I can say.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the old western filling the space between them. Evan wanted to say more, to promise his dad the world, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he stayed there, holding his father’s hand, letting the quiet speak for them.

  Eventually, his mom came in, her smile faint but warm as she announced that Jason was waiting. Evan stood, his hand lingering on his father’s shoulder. “I’ll be back soon,” he said softly. “Anything you need, just call me.”

  Robert nodded, his smile faint but genuine. “Take care of that boy of yours. He’s a good kid. Takes after his dad.”

  Evan’s throat tightened again, but he forced a smile. “I’ll see you soon, Dad.”

  As he left the house and climbed back into the car with Jason, Evan felt the weight settle back onto his shoulders. But as his son chattered away about his week, his energy returning, Evan couldn’t help but feel a small spark of hope. Whatever came next, they’d face it together. Just like his dad had taught him.

  —--

  The familiar, cozy clutter of Evan’s apartment greeted him and Jason as they stepped inside. The soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint scent of coffee from a pot he’d forgotten to empty before leaving filled the space. Jason immediately dropped his backpack near the couch with the energy of someone who had been freed from a week of grandma’s rules and routines. He kicked off his sneakers without much care for where they landed and flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

  “Finally!” Jason exclaimed, stretching out like he’d just been liberated from years of captivity. “I missed this place. Grandma and Grandpa’s house is okay, but it doesn’t feel like home, you know?”

  Evan chuckled, tossing his keys onto the counter and heading toward the kitchen. “I get it, buddy. But it’s not so bad, right? I mean, you survived—vegetables and all.”

  “Barely,” Jason groaned, sitting up to make his point more emphatic. “Grandma made brussels sprouts. Twice.”

  Evan made a sympathetic face as he rummaged through the fridge. “That’s rough, kid. Want a soda to wash away the trauma?”

  “Please,” Jason said with an exaggerated nod, grinning when Evan tossed him a can from across the room. He cracked it open and took a long sip before leaning back against the couch cushions. “So... how was your camping trip?”

  Evan paused for a moment, grabbing a bottle of water for himself. He’d expected this question, of course, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to explain the whole magical realm, battling mercenaries, rescuing artifacts thing to his ten-year-old. He settled onto the couch beside Jason, keeping his tone casual.

  “It was good,” Evan said, taking a sip of water. “Really good, actually. Got to spend some time in the woods, see some cool stuff, meet some interesting people.”

  Jason squinted at him, his face scrunching up in that way it always did when he suspected he wasn’t getting the full story. “What kind of ‘interesting people’?”

  Evan shrugged, doing his best to keep things vague. “You know, just... people who were out there, like me. Helping out, working on their own stuff.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed further, and Evan could practically see the gears turning in his head. “Was Lyrin there?”

  Evan’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, Lyrin was there.”

  Jason leaned forward, his curiosity now fully piqued. “Did you guys camp together?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Evan replied, keeping his tone light.

  Jason tilted his head, his grin turning sly. “Did you guys, you know... hold hands or something?”

  Evan nearly choked on his water, coughing as he sat up straighter. “What? No! I mean—Jason, come on.”

  Jason laughed, clearly entertained by his dad’s reaction. “Okay, okay. But you like her, right?”

  Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He should’ve known Jason wasn’t going to let this go. “Lyrin’s... a good friend,” he said carefully. “We’ve been through a lot together, and she’s someone I trust. That’s all.”

  Jason didn’t look convinced. “But you didn’t kiss her?”

  Evan groaned, leaning back against the couch and covering his face with his hands. “Jason, don’t you have video games to play or homework to finish or something?”

  Jason laughed again, clearly enjoying how flustered his dad was. “You’re so bad at talking about this stuff, Dad. It’s hilarious.”

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  Evan peeked at him from between his fingers, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Glad I can entertain you.”

  They fell into an easy rhythm after that, with Jason grabbing his Switch from his backpack and showing Evan the progress he’d made in a game while he’d been away. Evan ordered pizza, much to Jason’s delight, and they spent the evening eating, laughing, and debating the toppings that should and shouldn’t belong on pizza (Jason was staunchly anti-pineapple, while Evan enjoyed playing devil’s advocate just to get a rise out of him).

  After dinner, Evan grabbed a deck of cards from the drawer and challenged Jason to a few rounds of Go Fish and War. Jason, ever competitive, celebrated every win with a victorious cheer and a fist pump, while Evan pretended to groan in defeat. By the time the clock edged toward bedtime, Jason’s energy had finally started to wane, though his grin hadn’t faded.

  As Evan tucked him into bed, Jason looked up at him with a sleepy but content expression. “Hey, Dad?”

  “Yeah, buddy?” Evan said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m glad you had a good trip,” Jason said, his voice soft. “You seem... happier.”

  Evan’s chest tightened at the words, and he ruffled Jason’s hair gently. “Thanks, kiddo. That means a lot.”

  Jason yawned, his eyes already starting to close. “Maybe next time, you can take me camping. I promise not to ask if you kiss anyone.”

  Evan stifled a laugh, shaking his head. “Deal. Now get some sleep, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jason murmured, his voice trailing off as he drifted into sleep.

  Evan stayed there for a moment longer, watching his son’s peaceful face. The weight of the past week felt a little lighter now, the warmth of this moment anchoring him. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Jason’s forehead before standing and turning off the light.

  As he closed the door to Jason’s room and headed to his own, Evan felt a quiet sense of contentment settle over him. The road ahead might still be uncertain, but for tonight, he was home, his son was safe, and that was enough.

  —--

  The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Evan’s apartment, casting soft patterns across the floor as he sat at his small kitchen table, a mug of coffee steaming in one hand and his phone in the other. Jason was still asleep, the hum of the city outside providing a low, steady backdrop to the quiet. Evan had planned to take this moment to breathe, to enjoy the stillness before the day began. But what he saw on his phone screen had put an abrupt end to any chance of relaxation.

  A million dollars. Sitting in his Gold EFT account.

  He blinked at the screen, as if expecting the number to change, to vanish, to turn into some cruel glitch. But it didn’t. The balance stared back at him, resolute and undeniable. He set the phone down slowly, staring at it like it might explode.

  The coffee mug in his hand felt suddenly heavier, and he set that down too, leaning back in his chair. His mind raced, a dozen thoughts colliding at once.

  A million dollars. From Seralith. Payment for his work.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t warned him. She’d mentioned she would reward him for his efforts, that his service to her would not go unnoticed or uncompensated. But this? This was a reward beyond anything he’d expected. And beyond anything his current job could ever dream of offering.

  Evan ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing. His work as a product designer had always been a steady, reliable career. It paid the bills, put food on the table, and gave him something to focus on. He’d even enjoyed it, once. There was something deeply satisfying about creating something tangible, something useful, from scratch. But the truth was, the job had become a grind. And not because of the work itself.

  It was the corporate nonsense. The endless meetings that accomplished nothing. The layers of bureaucracy that strangled creativity and innovation. The systems and processes that seemed designed to slow progress rather than expedite it. And the executives—oh, the executives. They were more concerned with quarterly earnings and shareholder value than delivering a good product. Every decision they made seemed to add another obstacle, another hoop to jump through, another reason for Evan to question why he stayed.

  He liked designing. Hell, he loved designing. But the job? The job was slowly bleeding him dry.

  He thought back to Velanthor, to the work he’d done there. It was dangerous, sure. Incredibly dangerous. But it was also real. Tangible. He could see the results of his efforts in every life saved, in every victory won, in every step closer to restoring balance to that chaotic, magical world. And he wasn’t alone in it. Lyrin was there, her quiet strength and unshakable faith grounding him. And Seralith, for all her cryptic ways, had shown that she valued his contributions.

  And now, apparently, she valued them to the tune of a million dollars.

  Evan picked up his phone again, scrolling through his account details. The money was there, waiting. He could use it to pay off debts, to secure Jason’s future, to give his dad and mom some financial breathing room during this incredibly difficult time. He could use it to build a better life for himself and the people he cared about.

  But to do that, he’d have to make a choice.

  He could stay in his current job, continue to slog through the corporate grind, and keep his feet firmly planted in the world he’d always known. It was the safe option, the predictable one. But it also felt like a slow death, a gradual erosion of his passion and purpose.

  Or he could take the leap. Quit the job. Commit himself fully to Seralith’s service, to Velanthor, to the work that had already begun to feel like it mattered in a way his corporate projects never had. It was a risk—a massive one. But wasn’t that what life was about? Taking risks? Embracing the unknown?

  His fingers tightened around the phone as he stared at the screen. He could hear Lyrin’s voice in his mind, calm and steady, reminding him of the importance of faith—not just in the divine, but in himself. And he could see Seralith’s knowing smile, her cryptic warnings of greater dangers ahead mingling with the unspoken promise of something more.

  Evan exhaled slowly, setting the phone down again. He wasn’t going to decide right this second. This wasn’t just about him; it was about Jason, his parents, the life he’d built here. But the seed of doubt about his current path had been planted long ago, and now, with this unexpected windfall, it was starting to take root.

  He glanced toward Jason’s room, where the sound of soft footsteps told him his son was finally waking up. The thought of Jason—his bright, curious eyes, his boundless energy, his endless questions about the world—brought a smile to Evan’s face. Whatever he decided, it would be for Jason. For his future.

  “Dad?” Jason’s voice called out, followed by the sound of the door creaking open. “Is there any breakfast, or are we just gonna starve today?”

  Evan laughed, the weight of his thoughts easing slightly. “Coming right up, buddy. How do pancakes sound?”

  “Awesome!” Jason replied, already bouncing toward the kitchen.

  As Evan stood to start breakfast, the decision loomed in the back of his mind, unresolved but not forgotten. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear: his life was at a crossroads. And for the first time in a long time, the possibilities ahead felt limitless.

  —--

  Evan sat cross-legged on the floor of his living room, the soft hum of early evening traffic outside barely registering in his ears. His apartment was quiet now, Jason tucked into bed after a day of pizza and video games. Evan’s thoughts, however, were far from quiet. They swirled with images of Velanthor, of battles fought and choices looming like storm clouds on the horizon.

  He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, and allowed himself to sink inward. The familiar pull of his Ego Space enveloped him, and the world around him faded. Darkness gave way to a vast, star-speckled void, stretching infinitely in all directions. The space was calm yet alive, a reflection of his inner self. And, as always, she was waiting for him.

  "About time," came Alara’s voice, sharp and teasing, as her form materialized in the Ego Space. She was the picture of confidence as always, her fiery auburn hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, her leather battle gear gleaming in the ethereal light. She leaned casually on her sword, her emerald eyes sparking with mischief.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting," Evan said dryly, standing and brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. "Busy day. You know, parenting and existential crises."

  Alara smirked, stepping forward and crossing her arms. "You mean avoiding me because you knew I’d have a lot to say about your last fight. Specifically, how you almost got yourself decapitated by a half-orc with a big axe."

  Evan groaned, running a hand down his face. "I was hoping you’d forgotten about that."

  "Forgotten?" Alara laughed, the sound rich and full of mockery. "Sweetheart, I’m haunted by it. I’m your Eidolon, remember? Your mistakes are my mistakes." She jabbed a finger into his chest, though her tone softened slightly. "And you’ve been making some rookie ones."

  "Alright, alright," Evan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Let’s hear it. What did I screw up this time?"

  Alara snapped her fingers, and the Ego Space shifted. Suddenly, they were standing on the battlefield where Evan had fought Kaela. The scene was frozen in time: Kaela mid-swing, her massive axe arcing toward him, and Evan himself caught in an awkward stance, his sword angled poorly for the incoming blow.

  "Look at you," Alara said, gesturing to the scene like a disappointed coach. "Your weight’s all wrong, your grip’s too tight, and you left your left side completely exposed. If Kaela had been a hair quicker, you’d be a smear on the ground."

  Evan winced, taking a step closer to examine the scene. "Okay, yeah, that’s... not great."

  "Not great?" Alara echoed with a raised brow. "It’s terrible. But lucky for you, I’m here to fix it." She snapped her fingers again, and the scene dissolved, replaced by a more neutral space—a flat, open plane with no distractions.

  "Alright," she said, drawing her sword and gesturing for him to do the same. "Let’s work on your footwork first. If you’re going to take on people like Kaela again—and you will—you need to stop planting your feet like you’re a damn tree."

  Evan sighed but drew his sword, falling into a ready stance. "Fine. Let’s do this."

  The training was grueling, as it always was with Alara. She pushed him hard, forcing him to repeat movements and drills until they were second nature. She critiqued every misstep, every hesitation, but there was a kindness beneath her sharp words—a genuine desire to see him improve. By the time they were done, Evan felt like he’d just run a marathon, but he also felt sharper, more focused.

  "You’re getting there," Alara said as she sheathed her sword, her tone approving. "Still a long way to go, but you’re not hopeless."

  "Thanks, I think," Evan said, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. He sank down onto the plane, his sword disappearing as he leaned back on his hands. "You know, you’re a pretty intense drill sergeant."

  "Someone has to be," she quipped, sitting down across from him. Her expression softened as she studied him. "But that’s not the only thing on your mind, is it?"

  Evan hesitated, his gaze drifting to the starry void above them. "No," he admitted. "I’ve been thinking about... my job. My life here. And whether I should quit and just commit fully to working with Seralith."

  Alara tilted her head, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Ah, the big question. Let me guess—you’re torn between the stability of your corporate grind and the wild, unpredictable adventure of Velanthor?"

  "Pretty much," Evan said, his tone wry. "I mean, I like designing. I really do. But the job itself is... draining. All the red tape, the executives who don’t care about the actual work, the endless delays... it’s exhausting. And now, with Seralith paying me more for one job than I’d make in ten years at the company, it’s hard not to wonder if I’m wasting my time here."

  Alara leaned forward, her expression serious for once. "Evan, you’re not just a designer anymore. You’re a warrior, a leader, someone who’s making a real difference in a world that needs you. And yes, it’s dangerous, and yes, it’s messy, but it’s also meaningful. Can you honestly say the same about what you’re doing here?"

  He didn’t answer right away, but the silence spoke volumes.

  "And," Alara added, her grin returning, "you’ve got people in Velanthor who care about you. Lyrin, for one. And speaking of Lyrin..." She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Congratulations on starting a relationship with her, by the way. Took you long enough."

  Evan groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s... complicated."

  "It doesn’t have to be," Alara said, waving a hand dismissively. "And while we’re on the subject, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way Elena looks at you during your training sessions. You should go for it."

  Evan’s eyes widened, and he immediately shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. Elena’s my trainer. It would be completely unprofessional."

  "Oh, come on," Alara said, rolling her eyes. "You’re not exactly working a nine-to-five here. Boundaries are different when you’re saving the world, you know."

  "Maybe in Velanthor," Evan muttered, though he couldn’t ignore the flicker of temptation her words sparked. Elena was gorgeous, confident, and incredibly skilled. And Alara wasn’t wrong—there was a certain chemistry between them that he’d tried to ignore. But still...

  "Look," he said finally, "one thing at a time, okay? First, I need to figure out if I’m quitting my job. Then, maybe I’ll think about... other things."

  Alara smirked, leaning back with an air of satisfaction. "Fair enough. But don’t wait too long, Evan. Life’s too short for hesitation."

  He sighed, lying back on the ethereal plane and staring up at the stars. She wasn’t wrong. About any of it. And as he lay there, the weight of his decision pressing down on him, he felt a small flicker of clarity. Maybe it was time to take the leap. To commit—to Seralith, to Velanthor, to this strange new life that had chosen him.

  And maybe, just maybe, it was time to open his heart to the possibilities he’d been too afraid to consider.