The sky had begun to glow crimson when William reached the edge of the neighborhood.
He stopped.
Not because he was tired.
Not because he had lost his way.
His feet simply refused to take another step for a moment.
Before him stretched the place where he had spent most of his life.
The same streets.
The same houses.
The same narrow alleys.
And yet, everything felt different.
The difference wasn't in the stone walls or wooden fences.
It was in the people.
The world he had left behind months ago was dead.
What stood before him now was merely its successor.
Men carrying crude weapons patrolled the streets in small groups.
Children learned how to run, hide, and survive instead of playing games.
Women carried water and supplies while their eyes constantly scanned the horizon for danger.
Even laughter had changed.
It was quieter now.
Shorter.
As if people feared being happy for longer than reality allowed.
William released a slow breath and continued forward.
One step.
Then another.
And another.
Until he finally saw it.
His home.
A small, modest house that looked no different from dozens of others surrounding it.
Yet to him, it was worth more than any palace.
More valuable than any treasure.
Because it was the only place where he never needed to be strong.
The only place where he didn't have to be brave.
The only place where he could stop being a survivor, a fighter, or a victim of fate.
The only place where he could simply be...
William.
His eyes settled on the wooden door.
The same door he had walked through countless times during his childhood.
Suddenly, his throat tightened.
His chest felt heavy.
Memories crashed into him all at once.
The chains.
The torture.
Kate's voice.
The smell of blood.
The endless pain.
The loneliness.
The nights when he thought he would never see another sunrise.
And above all else...
The image of his mother crying after his disappearance.
The image of his father desperately trying to remain strong while quietly falling apart inside.
William closed his eyes.
For a moment, the memories became almost too heavy to bear.
How many times had he believed he would never return?
How many times had he imagined this house becoming nothing more than a distant memory?
How many nights had he survived solely because he wanted to see this place again?
A faint, exhausted smile appeared on his lips.
Then he raised his hand and knocked.
Inside the house, Maria was preparing dinner.
Jack sat near the window, repairing one of the tools he used for his new work.
The evening was peaceful.
A rare kind of peace.
Months had passed since the world's collapse.
Months since they had learned that Victoria was alive.
Months since William had briefly visited them before leaving again.
Life had slowly begun to regain some semblance of balance.
The crushing fear that had once consumed them every waking moment had lessened.
But it had never completely disappeared.
Because there remained one wound that still ached.
Their son.
The boy who had returned.
And then left once more.
The boy who had looked far older than his years when they last saw him.
The boy whose eyes carried things neither of them could understand.
A knock echoed through the house.
Jack raised his head.
His eyes met Maria's briefly before he stood.
They weren't expecting visitors.
Yet something—
Something he couldn't explain—
Made his heart begin beating faster.
He walked toward the door.
Opened it.
And time stopped.
The world disappeared.
There was only one thing left in his vision.
William.
Standing there.
Alive.
For several seconds, Jack couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't even breathe properly.
The boy standing before him was not the same boy who had left months ago.
He was taller.
Stronger.
Calmer.
There was a quiet weight in his presence that hadn't existed before.
Yet despite all the changes...
He was still his son.
The little boy he had carried on his shoulders.
The child he had taught to walk.
The boy who used to run toward him whenever he returned home from work.
Jack's lips trembled.
He tried to speak.
Tried to say something.
Anything.
But all that emerged was a single word.
A broken whisper.
"William..."
The moment William saw his father, something cracked inside him.
Jack had changed too.
Far more than he expected.
His father looked older.
Much older.
New strands of gray streaked through his hair.
Deep lines had appeared around his eyes.
And there was a weariness in him that no amount of sleep could erase.
For the first time since returning, William felt guilt.
A deep, painful guilt.
How many nights had they spent worrying?
How many times had they imagined his death?
How many tears had they shed because of him?
He took a step forward.
But Jack moved first.
He pulled William into a tight embrace.
A desperate embrace.
The embrace of a father who feared that if he let go, his son might disappear again.
Jack said nothing.
Because if he tried to speak—
He would break.
Inside the house, Maria heard William's voice.
The voice she had known since the day he was born.
The voice she could recognize among thousands.
She froze.
The spoon slipped from her hand and clattered onto the floor.
But she barely heard it.
She was already running.
She didn't stop to think.
Didn't stop to confirm.
Didn't stop to hope.
She simply ran.
The moment she entered the hallway and saw them—
Jack embracing William—
Her world shattered.
Months of fear.
Months of grief.
Months of sleepless nights.
Months of prayers whispered through tears.
Every nightmare.
Every worry.
Every moment of despair.
They all exploded at once.
And became tears.
She rushed toward them.
Then wrapped her arms around William with all the strength she had.
"William..."
His name escaped between sobs.
"William..."
She kept repeating it.
Again.
And again.
As though she feared he would vanish if she stopped.
For the first time in months, William stopped resisting his emotions.
The walls he had built around his heart.
The strength he had forced himself to maintain.
The cold determination that had carried him through endless suffering.
All of it crumbled.
And tears filled his own eyes.
For a few precious moments, he allowed himself to simply be a son.
They remained like that for a long time.
None of them wanted to let go.
As though the months they had lost were desperately trying to reclaim themselves through that embrace.
Even after entering the house, Maria couldn't stop touching him.
His shoulders.
His arms.
His face.
As though she needed constant reassurance that he was truly there.
That he wasn't a dream.
Or a wish she would wake up from.
They eventually sat around the dining table.
But the food remained untouched for quite some time.
Looking at one another felt more important.
Maria studied every detail of her son.
Every scar.
Every subtle change.
Every expression.
And with every new thing she noticed, her heart hurt a little more.
Because she understood that none of those changes had come without suffering.
Jack was quieter.
But he, too, never stopped watching William.
Questions filled his eyes.
Questions he never asked.
Because he understood something important.
If William wanted to talk, he would.
And if he didn't...
Then some wounds were better left sleeping.
Eventually, the conversation turned to Victoria.
The atmosphere changed immediately.
William told them everything he could.
About the Order.
About the Grand Matriarch.
About Victoria's training.
About her new life.
About the safety she now enjoyed.
Tears streamed down Maria's face throughout the entire story.
But these were not tears of sorrow.
They were tears of relief.
The tears of a mother who had spent months not knowing whether her daughter was alive, hungry, injured, or alone.
Jack closed his eyes when William finished speaking.
For several long seconds, he remained silent.
Then he whispered:
"Thank God..."
Only two words.
Yet they carried months of suffering within them.
They finally began eating.
The meal itself was simple.
Nothing extraordinary.
And yet William could not remember ever enjoying food more.
It wasn't because of the taste.
It was because of the people.
His mother's constant reminders to eat more.
His father's teasing remarks.
Their laughter.
Their ordinary conversations.
The small moments that once seemed insignificant.
Now they felt priceless.
As dawn slowly approached, everyone knew it was time.
The silence returned.
But this time it wasn't painful.
It was acceptance.
William embraced his mother.
Then his father.
Each embrace lasted longer than words could express.
No one wanted to let go.
Yet everyone understood that the road ahead was still long.
Eventually, he stepped back.
And looked at them.
Tears still shimmered in Maria's eyes.
Sadness still lingered within Jack's.
Yet behind all of it stood something stronger.
Peace.
For the first time in a very long time.
True peace.
Their son was alive.
Their daughter was safe.
And despite everything the world had thrown at them...
Their family still stood together.
When William finally left the house, the first rays of dawn were rising above the horizon.
The air was cool.
The streets were quiet.
And for the first time in months, he felt lighter.
The constant worry that had haunted him was gone.
His parents were safe.
Victoria was safe.
And now, at last, he could look forward.
The future remained uncertain.
Danger still awaited him.
Enemies still walked free.
And countless mysteries remained unsolved.
But this time, he wasn't moving forward because of fear.
Nor because of hatred.
Nor because of revenge alone.
He was moving forward because he had something worth protecting.
Something the world had tried to take from him.
And failed.
As the first golden light of morning spread across the sky, William continued his journey.
With a calmer heart.
A clearer mind.
And a renewed determination to face whatever awaited him next.
End of Chapter 26