The scent of pine and green grass lingered in the air — still the sa as he rembered.
The sweet fragrance of ripe fruit wafted through the soft mountain wind, which traveled down the hills, weaved through the forest, and rolled gently over the valleys.
The sun shone as brightly as it had in his childhood, its golden rays slanting over the peaks, casting long shadows across the land. The light struck the distant mountains just right, turning their edges to soft gold.
The forest leading to those mountains remained wild and lush — just as he rembered.
This was where he used to play as a child, out on the forest’s edge.
But deeper inside... deeper inside hid mysteries that no child should pry into.
It once seed so vast to him, when he was small. Now, standing tall and older, he couldn’t help but feel as if the distant mountains had grown smaller. Or maybe... he had simply outgrown them.
His gaze drifted to a shining ribbon that curved through the land — a stream, sunlight reflecting off its surface like silver thread.
It all looked so beautiful. So serene.
This land... was the birthplace of Damon Grey.
Seeing it now, a wave of emotion surged in his chest — heavy and slow, filled with warmth and sorrow.
Nostalgia.
It ca quietly, and refused to leave.
He rembered the ridge not far from here — where the village children dared each other to cross.
He rembered the streams, the slippery rocks, and the challenge of catching fish with bare hands.
He could still hear his mother’s voice calling him ho for dinner...
And her angry voice scolding him when he ventured too far.
A soft smile touched his lips.
This was ho.
It wasn’t much — just a small stop for travelers, few of whom even followed this old road anymore. But it was his ho.
At least... it used to be.
The soft rhythm of hooves stopped beside him, crunching the hilltop grass.
"Why did you stop? Is sothing wrong?" Singularity asked, pulling his mount alongside Damon.
Damon shook his head slowly, his eyes still locked on the village below.
"It’s nothing... it’s just different, in so ways. Different from what I imagined. What I rembered."
Singularity followed his gaze, silent.
"You’ve been to Little Town?" he asked after a mont.
Damon nodded, slowly calming his beating heart.
"Yes. Years ago..."
But sothing caught his attention.
He turned, eyebrows furrowing.
"Why aren’t they moving?"
Singularity lifted a brow, then gave a soft sigh.
"Probably because the self-declared leader of the caravan has stopped."
Damon smiled wryly, guilt creeping into his expression.
"Ah... right. My apologies."
He raised his hand, giving the silent order to move forward.
The trail of wagons and carriages resud, children breaking into laughter as they raced each other down the slope toward Little Town — their joyous voices echoing into the valley.
Damon watched them, his expression somber.
"Are you feeling sad," Singularity said, watching him carefully, "because you’ve arrived at your destination... or because these people have co to rely on you?"
"Or is it... because of this place in particular?"
Damon smiled faintly, a weary look in his eyes.
"It’s both, actually. As they say... ’Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but familiarity breeds contempt.’"
Singularity shook his head with a small sigh.
"That was awfully unnecessary... The people of our little caravan won’t like to hear that from their Lord Ascendant."
Damon’s smile softened, his gaze fixed ahead.
"I wasn’t referring to them. I was talking about the village. My village."
He had expected that, after all these years away, when he finally returned here — he would be seething with hatred and fury.
He had imagined himself marching back with fire and blood in his wake.
But instead...
All that filled his heart now was a cold, calm serenity.
A faint ache of hosickness.
In the back of his mind, he half-expected to hear his mother call out his na and tell him it was ti for dinner.
He imagined walking ho to train with his father.
He imagined the villagers smiling warmly at him.
But those were lies.
His mother and father were dead and buried — no, not even buried. There were no corpses to return.
The villagers were cruel and greedy, carrying small-minded intentions in their little hearts.
Even the children here were capricious and cruel, easily swayed to hatred by the adults that raised them.
"This place makes sick..." he muttered.
"This change makes sick."
Singularity stayed quiet, only glancing at him from the side.
He had never been here — he could not see the change.
But Damon had been born here. He could.
There were a few new buildings. No, a lot more.
The village had grown. No — they had thrived.
While he and his sister had suffered... these people had flourished.
The village pub had beco a full tavern — a large one, too.
They had built new windmills. The fields were wider.
There were inns now. Multiple.
Damon stretched out his shadow perception, and it spilled across the village.
He sensed newer shadows. People he didn’t know.
Children he didn’t know.
Those he did rember... had grown.
Life had moved on.
The stag stepped carefully down the slope, its hooves quiet against the grass. As it moved, Damon’s armor shimred and faded, replaced by a light tunic of fine craftsmanship.
He pulled up the hood he’d received from his grandfather, the Grand Duke Damien Brightwater. It fell over his crown, covering the glint of nobility from view.
"Hey... can you do a favor?" Damon asked, turning slightly toward Singularity.
Singularity nodded without hesitation.
"I would be happy to oblige."
Damon smiled at the quick response.
"I need everyone in the caravan to treat like a nobody when we reach the village. Also, I’d like to borrow so lower-tier clothes. I don’t have anything low-quality on ."
Singularity chuckled, shaking his head.
"Are you seriously bragging about being rich right now?"
Damon didn’t an to — but it couldn’t be helped.
Most of his clothes were bought by Lilith Astranova, an actual duchess. And she wasn’t stingy with money. Their outfits were often made with the sa matching fabrics and tailored down to every thread.
"I’ll get so of the rchants and travelers to donate their ragged clothes," Singularity said.
"Convincing them to act like you’re a nobody won’t be hard. I’ll get them to stay quiet for now."
He glanced down at the children racing ahead toward the village.
"The children will play along if we ask them nicely. They practically idolize you. Might be even better if we tell them it’s a ga."
Damon nodded. It seed Unnoticed Singularity had taken it upon himself to cover for him.
Singularity smiled warmly.
"I don’t know why you want to do this... but my party and I have your back. Leave it to us."
"As of now, consider yourself a nobody."
Damon nodded again, eyes locked on the village below.
’If you want to see soone’s true face... watch how they treat you when they think they’re better than you. When soone holds absolute power over you... that’s when they show you who they are.’
"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
Regardless of who held it.
Singularity placed a firm hand on Damon’s shoulder.
"Hey, nobody... I’ll be taking your expensive-looking stag. Nobodies walk on their feet."
He grinned, handing Damon a bundle of clothes he had sohow already secured.
"Now walk, peasant."
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