The words hung in the air– "Mom, I am home." They felt unreal even to me. But it was real. All too real.
My mother clung to me like I might disappear at any moment, her sobs filling the café.
"You're alive!" she repeated, her voice trembling with disbelief and overwhelming joy. "You're alive!" Her grip on me tightened.
Her cries where loud–loud enough to draw attention from the café's customers. Conversations halted.
Chair scraped against the floor as they turned towards us, their expressions raging with confusion to concern.
Some whispered to one another, but I couldn't hear them over the sound of my mother's weeping.
From the kitchen, a man emerged, wiping his hands on a towel. He was tall and had broad–shouldered, his dark hair with streaks of grey. His eyes, weary from years of hard work, froze for a moment as he saw us.
The towel slipped from his hand as he rushed toward the scene.
"Eleanor, what's going on!?" His voice was steady, his steps halted as his gaze landed on me.
He stopped in his tracks, his face pale and eyes wide with disbelief.
My mother finally loosened her grip enough to move turn toward him–still hugging me, her face wet with all the tears. "L-Leonard… It's Zane. Our Zane. He's alive… See? What did I tell you for all this time… My baby boy… He is alive..."
He didn't move. For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring at me with disbelief as if I were a ghost.
His lips opened and closed like a fish, as if trying to say something, but no words came out.
The café grew even quieter, the onlookers holding their breath, as if they too were awaiting his reaction.
Finally, my father broke free from his shock, taking a slow, unsteady steps toward me. His eyes teared, and his voice cracked as he spoke.
"How… How is this possible? Is it really you… Zane?"
I nodded, my throat tight as I replied. "It's me, Dad. I'm Home."
His hands trembled as he reached out his hand to touch my shoulder, as if afraid I might vanish under his fingers.
When he felt the solidity of my presence, he hurriedly pilled me into an embrace. It was firm strong–the embrace of father who had longed for his son every day for three years.
"You are alive," he whispered, his voice breaking. "My boy…My Zane…"
"I'm… here," I said, my own voice breaking, my tears falling. "I'm here, Dad."
As the tears and the embrace between the three continued, a sweet voice suddenly came from the staircase.
Her voice shaky, A little hesitant. "What… What's going on? Dad, Mom–"
My heart clenched. There she was–My older sister, standing frozen at the top of the stairs.
She looks exactly like younger version of my mother. Her long black hair falls of her shoulders reaching her waist.
Her usually composed demeanour crumbles as she stared me, her pale hands trembled.
"…Zane?" Her voice barely audible.
Tears already streaming, I took a step forward. "Hey, Elise… It's me."
"Uh–" She gasps, her legs giving way for moment, as if her body couldn't handle the flood of emotions hitting her all at once.
But then without any hesitation, she rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping in her toes as she throws herself at my arms.
Her voice cracking as she sobs uncontrollably, gripping me so tightly it almost hurts.
"Zane! It's you–it's really you! I thought I'd never see you–…I thought I've lost you forever!"
Holding her tightly, feeling her shaking in my arms, My voice cracks.
"I'm here, Sis. I'm here. I'm sorry for leaving you… I'm so sorry."
For a moment it was just the four of us–my sister quietly sobs, my mother and father silently tears, and me, sandwiched between them.
The café faded away.
Nothing else mattered to me.
Eventually, my father pulled back slightly, his hands still on my shoulders. His eyes searched mine, as such looking for a proof that this wasn't some kind of illusion.
"Where have you been for all those years? We thought… we thought we lost you in that explosion."
I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the lies I have rehearsed on my way here.
"I survived, but barely," I said, my voice low and steady. "The explosion on Frostvile Museum threw me far away, and I was in a coma for the past three years."
It wasn't completely a lie. I couldn't blame them for thinking I was dead.
That day at Frostvile Museum, my parents had taken me for a tour when an unexpected explosion killed nearly a hundred civilians.
I was caught in the blast and barely survived. The Hero Association found me and took me in, claiming I had some kind of bizarre powers.
For at least a year I was trained like a dog–for the sole purpose of being the greatest weapon they possess.
And later on, I became everyone's symbol of hope, and they named me [Hope].
My real Identity as 'Zane Skylark' remained hidden, even from them, I had signed a contract that stated revealing of my identity would bring them doom at my own hands.
Thus, even the upper-echelon members of the Hero Association didn't know who I truly was.
"A coma?" my mother repeated, her voice trembling–worrying, as her soft hand squeezing mine.
I nodded. "I woke up only a few months ago. It took me time to recover enough to travel back here."
I lowered my gaze, feeling shame. "I wanted to come back sooner, but I couldn't. I am sorry."
My father's hand moved to my cheek, his touch was gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for, son. You're alive–that's all that matters."
My mother wiped her tears with the edge of her apron, her smile radiant despite her teary face. "Let's close the café for the day. My son travelled for an entire day. You must be hungry."
"Very hungry."
"Come on, Zane," she said softly, her voice thick with tears, "Let's go upstairs."
Our house is a two-story building of first floor being the café and the second floor being our home, as my sister took me to the second floor which held our home, I noticed, neatly potted plants lining in the balcony spoke of my mother's flawless care, while the slight creak n the wooden staircase hinted at my father's stubborn refusal to replace anything that still had character.
It wasn't any thing grand or luxurious, but it was ours. Every inch of the house held memories–some cherished, some painful, but all part of me.
Later, as I stood in the steaming bathroom, I heard a faint sound outside the door.
I opened it slightly to find Elise sitting on the floor, her back against the wall.
"Elise?" I asked, surprised from the other side of the door.
"I just… I can't leave. What if you disappear again?" she said softly.
I crouched down, resting my back against the door. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You don't understand. For three years, I lived every day thinking you were gone. And now you are here, but… it feels like a dream. What if I wake up and you're gone again?"
I swallowed hard, her voice cutting deep. "I'm here," I said firmly. "And I'll prove it to you every day if I have to."
"You better."
For the past fifteen minutes, Elise had been chatting non-stop.
My older sister–just eleven months older than me–was on verge of turning eighteen, she didn't even pause her chatter while I was in the bath, as if afraid I might vanish the moment she stopped talking.
When I finally emerged, we made our way to the dinner table together.
It was laden with all my favourite dishes: spiced venison stew, perfectly glazed carrots, and a golden, flaky apple pie that filled the room with its sweet, comforting aroma.
As I took my first bite, the tension in the room seemed to melt away.
Both my parents and Elise watched me, their faces a mixture of joy and relief, as though seeing me eat was proof that I was really here—that I was truly back.
The flavours hit me like a wave, rich and comforting, a perfect harmony of spices and warmth. The tender meat, the fresh vegetables, the subtle hit of herbs–it was perfect. So very perfect.
My jaw stilled as I swallowed as I felt an unfamiliar creeping up in my chest, spreading into my eyes.
The tears flowed down my cheek before I even realized.
My fork clattered softly against the bowl as I wiped my face, but the tears wouldn't stop.
They rolled down my cheeks, hot and continuously.
My sister, sitting across from me, leaned forward, her brows knitting together in concern. "Zane, why are you crying?"
I shook my head, trying to smile, "I don't know," I added. "Maybe… because it's been so long since I felt this. Since I felt."
"Idiot. You are crying because you're happy. And now you are making me cry."
We all laughed, the sound breaking through the emotional tension.
For the first time in years, the house was filled warmth and laughter.
As the conversation turned to lighter topics, Elise proudly pulled out her [NOVA] ID card, her name displayed along side her rank as a five-digit hero.
[NOVA] is the pinnacle of hero education, an institute renowned for producing the finest rankers.
Located in the heart of [Frostvile] Kingdom, it's more that just a school, it's a place where only the most determined and capable individuals rise to become the ultimate protecters of society.
"I'm training to become a hero, just like [Hope]," she said, her eyes sparkling.
I chuckled, the irony almost too much. "You're doing great, Elise," I said, ruffling her hair.
"Hey stop that! I'm the older." My sister said as she proceeds to pat my head.
The atmosphere was lighter now, I couldn't help but watch my family as they spoke–my mother pouring another bowl of stew, my mother grumbling about the customers, and my sister, beamed with joy as she shared stories about her time at [NOVA].
"[NOVA] huh? I didn't realize you enrolled."
"Of course, I did! I wanted to make mom and dad proud. After you…" Her voice faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. "After everything that happened, I realized I wanted to protect people, just like all other Heroes."
'Heros huh…Could I be one day going back to that?'
I had left that life behind and gone into laying low from the Hero Association.
But now, hearing the excitement in my sister's voice as she spoke of [NOVA], I couldn't help but feel a spark of the old fire. I once was a Rank–1 Hero, feared by many.
But now…
Was that really all?
The days of my glory seemed distant, blurred by the pain and confusion that had followed me since that 'thing' took my life.
I wasn't the same anymore. How could I be? My body has changed, my powers had evolved, but had my purpose?
I looked at my sister–my brave, optimistic sister–and a part of me wanted to smile, to reach out and encourage her.
She was already a hero to her own right, and to see her admiring someone like [Hope] made me proud.
She didn't know the true weight of being a hero, the cost of that title–the losses, the sacrifices. I had lived that, and I didn't know if I could ever go back to it. I didn't know if I wanted to.
She was still full of hope, still looking up to [Hope] who had fought so fiercely, so selflessly. She believed in me. And maybe, just maybe, I could still be that for her.
'Maybe I could help her avoid the darkness I had fallen into.'
"Zane..." Her voice brought me back to the moment. "Why don't you come to NOVA with me, who knows maybe you could replace [Hope] and be my next hero."
The words hit me harder than I expected.
'Maybe this time, I can do it differently.'
I looked at her, at that girl who had always looked up to [Hope]—to me, and for the first time I saw the path ahead clearly. I had to grow stronger–not just for me, but for her, for my parents, for the world that has unknown threats lingering around.
A weight seemed to settled in my chest, but it was different–This time, It wasn't my anger or fear. It was my resolve.
I'll go back. Not as [Hope], but as Zane Skylark.
I'll become even stronger–No even strongest. So strong that even the gods will tremble with the very name of Zane Skylark.
End of chapter