The grand hall of the palace opened before them. Its high arched ceiling supported by pillars carved with the history of the Qomore Kingdom. They feel like its been ages since they step into this palace whil actually its just few days.
Banners fluttered above the polished stone floor. Sunlight casting long shadows through the stained glass windows. The air smelled faintly of incense.
As Eccar and the eight adventurers passed through the inner gates, rows of palace guards stood at attention along the walls.
This time, they didn't just glance or ignore them as they had when the group first departed. This time, every soldier saluted with straight-backed, fists pressed to chestplates. Their eyes following them with a look that held both amazement and respect.
Kaela nudged Mark with a grin and speak with low voice. "I guess they know something."
Mark gave a small chuckle. "Looks like word gets around in the palace."
Thorne let out a soft whistle. "Not bad, huh?"
Even Eccar who usually indifferent to ceremony or titles found himself nodding slightly in appreciation.
He wasn't one who cares about praise before, but lately in the Elf Palace and here, he'd come to understand the value of it. Not for the ego. But because of the people know someone was out there doing the impossible for their sake.
The citizens of Qomore might never know what really happened in the forest or understand the god they nearly lost their world to. But the ones here—the guards, the soldiers, the inner court—they somehow knew. That was enough.
The doors to the throne room opened with a slow creak and the group entered with reverent steps.
At the far end, King Roderic sat upon his high-backed seat, a regal calm in his eyes. Flanking him stood Advisors, Generals, and at his right hand was the Archmage Sylmira.
Her expression was serene, hands folded before her staff, but her gaze lingered on Eccar just a heartbeat longer than the others.
The adventurers and Eccar all came to a halt and bowed respectfully.
King Roderic rose, his cloak rippling as he stepped forward.
"You've returned," he said, voice calm and firm. "The forest and the kingdom still stands."
Eccar straightened. "Yes, Your Majesty. The threat is ended. The god has been, uh… restored."
There was a quiet murmur through the chamber. But not disbelief, only amazement. They already knew about this news even though not in detail. It must be because some wordless messengers carried by the forest's Magic that the Archmage had detected.
King Roderic gave a slow nod. He said, "You've done what most would never dream of attempting. Not only surviving the wrath of a forgotten god, but keeping the destruction minimal." He looked at each of them in turn. "The kingdom owes you all a great debt."
Selene bowed her head. "We only did what had to be done."
Sylmira spoke then, her voice smooth as wind through leaves. "Few have the courage to walk into the unknown but you all did, and because of that, a great catastrophe was prevented."
Her eyes drifted to Eccar. "Especially you. I sensed the shift in the air when you entered the god's world. I also sense the way the Magic of the forest twisted, then softened. I felt your presence at its center. And one of your friend."
Eccar met her gaze, then gave a small, almost amused smile. "I didn't do it alone."
"I know," Sylmira said with a tilt of her head. "But you stood at the heart of it."
King Roderic then turned his attention to the adventurers.
"Mark, Jan, Hund, Thorne, Selene, Esther, Annette, Kaela." He named them one by one, and each straightened at the sound of it. "You've proven yourselves not just as adventurers, but as heroes of the kingdom. In fact, it was two kingdoms. Qomore and Astoria."
He gestured to an attendant, who stepped forward with a scroll. "Each of you will receive formal commendation from the crown. Your names will be entered into the royal records. And you will be rewarded appropriately."
Kaela whispered to Thorne, "Told you we'd be famous one day."
He smirked. "Yeah, just had to fight a forest god to get there."
A ripple of chuckle passed through the group. Even in the halls of power, they couldn't shake the ease between them.
King Roderic offered one final nod. "You can rest now and enjoy your return. You've earned it. We also had prepared the healers and alchemist to tend to your injuries. Visit them immediately."
As the formal audience ended, the group began to withdraw, leaving the throne room behind.
But as they turned to go, Sylmira stepped down from the dais, her staff tapping softly against the stone.
"Eccar," she said.
He paused, waiting as the others moved on.
Sylmira approached him slowly, her voice low. "I know that you carry something ancient. Something most have forgotten how to sense. I want to understand it better."
Eccar gave a small tilt of his head. "Then we can talk."
A shadow of a smile touched her lips. "Later. You can rest first. I won't keep you long."
"Alright then." He nodded once and turned to follow the others out, leaving the throne room behind.
---
The doors of the healing chamber opened to reveal a long clean room lit with warm lanterns and infused with the scent of mint and crushed herbs. Soft voices murmured instructions as healers and alchemists move. The moment Eccar and the adventurers stepped in, a small wave of recognition swept through the room.
"There they are," one of the older healers breathed. "They're the ones who saves us."
They were quickly ushered in and guided to resting spots. Hund, Mark, Jan, Kaela, and Thorne looked utterly worn down. Their armor dented, skin pale, and clothes caked in dried blood and forest dust.
The healers worked swiftly to cleaning wounds, applying glowing salves, whispering incantations to ease the tremors left in their minds.
As one healer approached Eccar and examined him with glowing hands, her brows furrowed.
"There's barely anything here," she muttered, puzzled. "No deep lacerations, broken bones, or mental corruption. Just some bruises and muscle strain."
Eccar rubbed the back of his neck, giving her a sheepish smile. "Yeah. My body's... a little different."
"Different?" the healer blinked.
"He built different," Selene called from her cot, wincing as a poultice was pressed to her ribs.
The healer then nodded quickly. "Uhm, I guess that explains it."
Eccar waved dismissively. "I don't need the fancy stuff. Just... you got any cold juice or something?"
The healer stared for a second, then laughed softly. "We might be able to manage that."
Moments later, she returned with a small clay cup filled with chilled berry juice. Eccar accepted it with a grin and leaned back, sipping slowly while watching his friends being tended with care.
For now, he could rest.
---
Far from the palace, in a lonely hut tucked into the forest's edge, the mood was far less calm.
Darel, Varn, and Yara sat inside, their wounds still healing. Bandages wrapped across arms and torsos. The room smelled of dried blood, smoke, and bitter herbs.
A sudden knock at the door froze them in place.
Not loud. Just slow and measured.
They exchanged a look. Darel's hand crept toward the knife on the table.
Another knock came.
"Who the hell…?" Varn whispered.
"No one should know we're here." Yara's voice was low and tense.
They had failed. And not just any mission, it was the big mission. The one that was supposed to guarantee their rise within the organization, not bury them in disgrace.
Inside the dim hut, the air was thick with the weight of that failure. Yara's fingers twitched against the bandage wrapped around her shoulder as she stared at the closed door, her breath shallow.
"They know," she said at last. "They have to. With the way things are... they always know!"
Varn sat slumped on a stool near the firepit, jaw clenched. "Then why haven't they killed us yet?"
"Because we're still useful," Darel muttered from the corner, where he sat sharpening his blade in silence. "Maybe we don't have as much reputation as before. But we are still useful."
Yara turned toward him. "What should we do?"
Darel ran the whetstone across the blade one final time, then sighed and stood up. His body moved stiffly—each motion revealing the toll the forest had taken on him.
"We don't have many options. We can't run in our state. Can't fight either. We're in their hands now."
"You're going to answer to them?" Varn asked, alarmed.
Darel looked over his shoulder. "You got a better idea?"
Varn opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked away in frustration.
Darel walked toward the door. He paused before it, inhaled deeply, and pulled it open.
Standing just outside was the burly man in a dark cloak. His arms crossed and face as unreadable as carved stone. His presence seemed to drag the warmth from the room.
"Darel," the man said in a voice like gravel.
"Yes," Darel replied. "Come in."
Without hesitation, the man stepped through. The door creaked shut behind him.
Inside the hut, silence fell once more.
---