"Never go there,"
The words rang in his mind, as clear as the day his father had spoken them. His gaze lingered on the forest.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the straw rustling faintly under his weight. His eyes roamed the room, taking in every detail. Time had stood still here, frozen in the moment he had left, yet the boy who had once called this place home was long gone.
His hand tightened on the edge of the mattress. His heart felt as worn as the house itself, filled with the weight of loss, regret, and a flicker of something he could not yet name.
This place, this village, held the remnants of his past, a life that had been simple, joyful, and whole.
But he was no longer that boy. The man who had returned carried the scars of a journey that had taken him far beyond these familiar walls.
Yet, for all the strength he had gained, he felt fragile here, standing in the shadow of what he had lost.
