The ritual’s glow still filled Eleanor’s room when Kael stepped away from the central table, showing no curiosity in watching the process. For him, the task had already been delegated, and remaining there observing would only be a waste of time. The runes continued to spin above the pendants, projecting broken images and echoes of memories into the air, while the Witch Queen kept her hands steady on the surface and plunged ever deeper into the sealed consciousnesses. Exelia accompanied Kael to the door, casting one last glance back before leaving. Eleanor still seemed completely focused, though the corner of her mouth suggested she remained amused even in her trance.

As soon as they crossed the outer corridor and the door closed behind them, the silence of the palace immediately enveloped them. It was a silence different from the rest of the world, cleaner, more ancient, as if those walls had learned centuries ago to keep secrets without ever repeating them. The corridor was wide, illuminated by suspended lamps that burned no fuel, merely hovering in the air like small, private moons. Black and violet tapestries hung down the polished stone walls, depicting battles, coronations, and female figures surrounded by constellations.

Kael walked a few steps ahead before stopping and glancing sideways at Exelia.

"Go rest."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Was that an order?"

"It was an observation." He maintained his usual neutral tone. "We haven’t slept properly in days. Your body still functions, but that doesn’t mean you should insist."

Exelia crossed her arms reflexively, then uncrossed them almost immediately. There was weariness in her, though kept under strict discipline. The last few journeys had been a continuous sequence of combat, travel, vigilance, and decisions too quick to allow for real rest.

"Are you included in that recommendation?" she asked.

"Not immediately."

"Of course."

She let out a small sigh, this time without genuine resistance.

"Alright. I’ll accept it before you turn this into another irritatingly logical sentence."

Kael simply nodded.

Exelia tilted her head slightly, observing him for a second longer before speaking again.

"Go see Elion. She should be in her quarters."

The name hung between them with silent weight.

Kael took a moment to answer, not out of hesitation, but because certain ideas required internal reorganization.

"It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my mother."

Exelia noticed the slight change in his voice. It wasn’t open emotion, nor explicit nostalgia, but something rare: a recognition of distance.

"Then go," she said, now softer. "I can find a bed by myself."

"I doubt it."

"Keep walking before I change my mind."

For the first time in many hours, something close to humor crossed Kael’s expression. Too small to be called a smile, but real enough to be noticed.

They said goodbye without ceremony. Exelia turned left, following a side corridor that led to the guest wing and adapted military quarters. Kael went ahead alone.

The witches’ palace was vast in a counterintuitive way. Corridors connected to staircases that weren’t in the same place every day, halls changed function as needed, and some doors led to larger interior spaces than the tower would allow from the outside. Kael had known this since childhood, which made the irregularities less confusing and more... familiar.

As he walked, his footsteps echoed discreetly on the dark floor.

He thought of Elion.

Where had she been all this time?

The question arose naturally now that the subject was before him. His mother rarely stayed in one place for long. She had a habit of disappearing for weeks, sometimes months, returning as if she had only gone out to buy flowers. Part of it stemmed from her very nature; another part, from a temperament incompatible with stagnation.

She couldn’t have stayed all this time in that old house in the forest.

Kael remembered the place: old wood, wide windows, the constant smell of damp earth and strong tea. A secluded retreat used at specific times, never as a permanent residence. He hadn’t visited that house in years. The last time had ended with half the forest remodeled by a family argument about magical boundaries and experimental architecture.

He let out a discreet sigh.

"She probably remodeled another entire continent," he murmured to himself.

He turned into two more corridors, descended a short staircase, and passed through an inner garden covered by a black glass roof where night-blooming flowers bloomed even in broad daylight. Palace servants bowed at the sight of him, some with formal respect, others with the caution of those who knew enough stories to prefer not to draw attention.

Kael continued walking.

He also thought about the title Eleanor had given him.

King.

The word didn’t irritate him so much because of its political weight, but because of its administrative inconvenience. Titles attracted expectations, rituals, meetings, and people wanting to discuss hierarchical precedence. None of that had any immediate use.

Still, he knew his grandmother hadn’t done it out of mere whim. In the Kingdom of Witches, naming someone was also about positioning them within a network of protection, legitimacy, and ancient responsibility. Eleanor always hid affection within irritating political maneuvers.

He recognized that.

He still didn’t like it.

A few more minutes took him to the more secluded residential wing of the tower, where the air seemed slightly warmer and more fragrant. The doors there were more ornate, the tapestries less ceremonial and more personal. There were living vases that moved discreetly to capture light, paintings whose landscapes changed with the hours, and small streams of water running through grooves in the walls to maintain the atmosphere in magical balance.

He found the door.

It was made of light wood, contrasting with the rest of the palace. Simple at first glance, but marked by almost invisible runes and old scratches near the doorknob—signs of domestic experiments or impatient visitors. Exactly the kind of door Elion would choose from dozens of majestic options just to defy the local norm.

Kael stopped before it.

He took a breath.

It had been too long.

Not because there was an insoluble conflict between them. The relationship had always existed in an irregular orbit: intense approaches, long absences, reunions treated as if no interval had passed. Both were bad at consistency and excellent at disappearing when they deemed it necessary.

Still, years continued to be years.

He raised his hand and opened the door without knocking.

The mistake was immediate.

Something large, soft, and extremely fast collided directly with his face before his mind even registered movement. His vision vanished into light fabric, heat, and sudden pressure. Two strong arms enveloped his head and neck, pulling him into the room with an energy impossible to associate with someone unprepared.

Kael recoiled half a step reflexively.

It was no use.

The initial impact revealed itself to be exactly what it seemed: a pair of voluminous breasts pressed against his face as the owner of the embrace crushed him with absolute enthusiasm.

"KAEL!"

The female voice came from above, vibrating with outrageous joy.

He tried to speak and produced only a muffled sound.

The room around him was invisible at that moment.

"You’ve grown!" she continued, squeezing even tighter. "Or maybe I forgot the size of your head!"

Kael raised his hands and held her shoulders, trying to create enough breathable space for him to exist again.

"Mother."

"Yes?"

"Air."

"Oh."

The pressure ceased immediately. He took a step back and regained his vision.

Elion was before him.

Tall, exuberant, and utterly impossible to ignore, she wore a loose robe that seemed to have been hastily put on and adjusted without any regard for symmetry. Her long hair fell in golden-copper waves down her back and shoulders, partially held back by hairpins that had already given up on their task. Her eyes shone with the same irreverent intensity as always, and she possessed that rare energy of people who fill an entire room even when standing still.

The smile she gave him was vast, genuine, and dangerously contagious.

"You opened without knocking," she said, as if he were to blame for everything.

"I learned it from my family."

"Excellent answer."

Before he could react, Elion cupped his face in her hands, turning it from side to side like someone inspecting precious merchandise. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"No serious injuries. Good. Tense shoulders. Terrible. Dark circles under his eyes. Horrible. Questionable diet. Tragic."

"I’m fine."

"Classic male lie."

She pulled him inside and closed the door with her foot.

The room was an organized chaos. Cushions everywhere, clothes piled on chairs, books stacked in unstable heaps, plants growing where they shouldn’t, a screen toppled in a corner, and three different cups occupying the same table. Large windows let in enough light to reveal golden particles floating in the air.

Kael looked around.

"Nothing has changed."

"That’s false and rude. Now I have more plants."

Elion hugged him again, this time less overwhelmingly. Just enough to communicate years of absence without needing to verbalize. When she let go of him, she stared at him for a quieter moment.

"I missed you."

Kael held her gaze.

"Me too."

She smiled slightly, almost tenderly.

"There. Emotional moment complete. Now tell me why the entire palace is vibrating as if Eleanor were opening brains upstairs."

"Because she is."

"Wonderful. And why do you look like someone who destroyed a kingdom on the way here?"

"Because I destroyed part of one."

Elion blinked slowly.

"Ah. Then the coffee will need to be strong."

She was already walking towards a small, makeshift kitchen in the corner of the room, talking as she opened cupboards and moved utensils with casual magic.

"You’re going to tell me everything. From the beginning. Without omitting important parts, relevant deaths, or unrelated family dramas."

Kael stood near the door for a moment, watching her circle the room like a perfectly domestic whirlwind.

Perhaps he didn’t know where she’d been for the past few years.

Perhaps there were still dozens of questions.

But, at that moment, that seemed secondary.

He was home enough.