"Goodbye. Have a safe trip back," she said, her voice breaking slightly as she hugged them both. Her father, ever the tease, ruffled her hair. She batted his hands away, trying to fix her braid before giving up and letting her hair fall loose.
"We are not done, we want to make sure you are settled in before we leave." Her dad says pacing around her new space unpacking everything they bought her, using containers with labels she can understand.
"You took all the fun out of my hairdo," she huffed.
"It's going to be a while before I see my favourite daughter again," he replied, grinning.
"I'm your only daughter," she shot back, laughing.
"Hence, my favourite," he said, his tone turning serious. "Are you sure you want to be here?" her father asked, his tone a mixture of concern and hope.
"Yes," Zuria replied with conviction. "I want to be far away from Chicago. If there's even a chance I can start fresh, I have to take it."
The memory of Abel defeating her so effortlessly during training still stung. It wasn't just about pride—it was about survival. In a real fight, against an actual threat, she refused to be the weakest link. Chicago had been a battleground for her soul, a place where her demons had left her broken and hopeless. Now, standing here, she felt like she had a chance to reclaim herself.
She glanced up at her parents, the weight of their expectations pressing on her. After a streak of bad decisions and disappointment, all she wanted was to make them proud.
Her dad pulled her into another hug, holding her tightly. "Honey, whatever you decide, we'll support you. Your heart will never steer you wrong."
Zuria swallowed the lump in her throat and hugged him back, drawing strength from their unwavering love. Starting over wouldn't be easy, but for the first time in a long while, she believed she could.
"Thank you, Dad. That's why you're my favorite," she teased.
"Hey, I'm also your father!"
"Hence, why I said favourite dad," she quipped with a wink.
Her father handed her a small object. It felt both smooth and rough against her fingers, the contrasting textures oddly comforting. Zuria's emotions were a torrent of awe, gratitude, and a deep yearning for connection as she held the ancient band in her hands. Its smooth edges felt like a piece of her history, the rough texture a symbol of the battles she had yet to face. When it seared its way onto her hand, her breath hitched, and a surge of energy pulsed through her, connecting her to something greater than herself.
"What is this?" Zuria asked, her fingers tracing the intricate, smooth, and rough textures of the object. Though she couldn't see it, she felt its power hum through her fingertips, ancient and alive.
Her father smiled, his voice low and deliberate, carrying the weight of generations. "This is a gift from your grandfather, entrusted to you alone. It is ancient dragon magic, tied to your light and your essence. A weapon, yes, but far more than that—a companion and a key to realms beyond sight. It will respond to your will, moving as an extension of your mind, just as you guide yourself through the earth's vibrations. It knows you, and only you. No other hand may wield it."
Zuria tilted her head, absorbing his words. Her father continued, his tone steady but reverent, as though he were revealing a sacred truth.
"It is part of you now, as vital as breath or heartbeat. When the earth sings beneath your feet, this will resonate with it. When danger looms, it will answer your call. And when the time comes to bridge worlds or protect what matters most, it will guide you. Trust it, as you trust yourself. It is bound to your destiny, just as you are bound to the earth that steadies your path."
Zuria felt the object shift against her palm, wrapping snugly around her wrist like it belonged there all along. Its energy pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, and for a moment, she felt something deeper than connection—an awakening.
Her lips parted in awe, but her father only chuckled softly, pride and reassurance in his voice. "You may not see its brilliance, my warrior, but it sees yours. It will serve you well."
Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she hugged her father tightly. His arms wrapped around her with the kind of love that made her heart ache. "You and grandpop always know what I need, even before I do," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Her dad joined the embrace, and she felt their strength envelop her like a fortress. It wasn't just a band; it was a lifeline, a tangible reminder that no matter how far she strayed or how dark her path became, her family would always be a beacon to guide her home.
"I don't deserve this," she said softly, her voice trembling.
Her father kissed her forehead, his voice firm yet tender. "Zuria, you deserve the world. You've fought so hard, and you've carried so much. Let this remind you that you're never alone."
Her dad added with a playful smirk, "And don't worry—if you try to run this time, this will bring us straight to you."
She laughed through her tears, swatting at him gently. "You two really can't let me go, can you?"
"Never," her father said, his tone resolute. "You're our daughter, our warrior, our light. And no matter where you go, we'll always be here."
Feeling the weight of their love and belief in her, Zuria nodded. "Thank you. I'll make you proud—I promise."
As she hugged them once more, the ancient magic of the band warmed against her skin, as if acknowledging her vow. Her fathers kissed her forehead the same way they used to do when she was younger and months before she ran away. For the first time in years, she felt something she had long thought lost: hope, tethered to the unbreakable bond of family.