The chill of the construction site lingered, even in the warmth of his bedchamber. Aaron shivered, a memory flashing through his mind: a concrete floor, a biting wind, and a rough hand pulling him from the shadows. He was a boy then, lost and afraid, and the man, Amanda's father, had been his only solace.
He sat up, a wave of sadness washing over him. He was home, but the world he had left behind felt like a dream, a distant echo. He had built a life on Earth, a life filled with purpose and passion, a life that had been abruptly ripped away.
He rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He had to face his family, navigate this unfamiliar world, and find his place in a kingdom that had moved on without him.
The dining room was hushed, filled with whispers. His parents stood, their faces a mix of relief and apprehension. He took a seat, the familiar weight of the velvet cushioning his weary frame.
"Aaron," his mother said, her voice trembling with a mix of joy and fear. "You're back. It's really you."
He smiled, a weak, tired smile. "It's me, Mother."
His father, his face lined with the weight of his years, sat beside his mother, his gaze fixed on Aaron. "We've been so worried, son."
The questions came in a torrent, each one a sharp jab at his already raw emotions. He needed time, space to breathe, to process the chaos that had become his life.
"How about we eat first?" he said, his voice a mere whisper. "We can talk after."
The room fell silent. The guards, the maids, even his family, watched him with an intensity that made his skin crawl. He felt like an exhibit, a curiosity to be examined.
His father, sensing his discomfort, cleared his throat. "Of course, son. Eat. We'll talk later."
He ate, the food tasteless, the silence deafening. He could feel their eyes on him, their questions hanging in the air like a suffocating fog. He knew he couldn't avoid them forever.
After dinner, his father led him to his office, a room overlooking the kingdom. His mother sat on a plush armchair, her face drawn with worry. His father stood behind him, his hand resting on his shoulder, a silent reassurance.
He turned away from them, his gaze fixed on the sprawling kingdom below. The buildings, the streets, the bustling marketplace - it all looked the same, unchanged by the passage of time. He had been gone for twelve years, a lifetime in the grand scheme of things, and yet nothing had changed.
"Don't you know?" he asked, his voice barely a murmur. "The world I've been to... it doesn't have magic."
His parents gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief. "Impossible," his mother whispered. "It's impossible."
He turned to them, his face etched with a mixture of weariness and frustration. "It's not impossible, Mother. It's real. Twelve years I've been gone, and this view... it's still the same. No progress. No change."
He turned back to the window, his gaze sweeping over the familiar landscape. "That place... the place I was... they don't have magic. But they progress. They build. They innovate. They change."
He turned to his father, his eyes filled with a desperate hope. "Do you want this kingdom to change? Do you want to see progress?"
He waited, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. He had returned home, but he was no longer the prince who had left. He had seen another world, a world without magic, a world that had embraced progress and innovation. And he couldn't help but wonder if his world, his kingdom, could be better, could be more.
He had returned home, but he had also returned with a new perspective, a new vision. And he was determined to share it.