Kael'tar trudged back through the village with the basket of roasted chestnuts in his arms, the fragrant warmth seeping through the woven wicker. The smell was a comforting contrast to the harsh, dry air of the fields.
It wasn't a prize worthy of his past—certainly not the golden riches or treasures he had once collected. Yet, here he was, holding something as mundane as chestnuts, the simple joy of a mortal market trade.
He couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at the irony of it.
He walked back toward the modest house, each step heavier than the last.
His thoughts still lingered on the bitter truths he had uncovered today—his fall from power, his strange position in this foreign life, and the way the villagers had treated him, as though he were just another one of them.
There were moments when he wanted to scream at the absurdity of it all, but instead, he focused on the warm weight of the basket in his arms.
As he approached the house, he saw Ryn standing outside, his face lighting up when he spotted the basket.
Ryn was the first to notice. His face lit up with a grin that could melt even the hardest heart. "Chestnuts!" he exclaimed, rushing toward his brother. "You got chestnuts!"
Kael'tar didn't answer immediately. "You seem excited for roasted nuts," he said dryly, his voice betraying a hint of amusement.
Ryn grinned even wider. "They're so good, big brother! Ma says we only get them in the fall! Thank you!"
Ryn eagerly took the basket from Kael'tar's hands, pulling out a warm chestnut and popping it into his mouth. "Ma's gonna be so happy! She's been talking about how nice it would be to have some treats. It's a good thing you went to the market today, big brother!"
Kael'tar's gaze shifted to the ground, and he made a sound that could almost be mistaken for a grunt.
The village market hadn't been exactly what he'd hoped for, but he wasn't about to admit it to his younger brother.
What could he say? 'Oh, I thought I'd find something grand and magical, like the marketplaces of Sky City?'
Instead, he changed the subject, still half-embarrassed by the thirty silver his mother had given him.
"Here," Kael'tar said, pulling out the small pouch of coins and tossing it to Ryn. "The remaining silver. You should give it to Ma."
Ryn caught it with a soft gasp of surprise. "Wait, really? This is the rest?"
"Yeah. What else would I do with it?" Kael'tar replied, though inside, he felt a sense of guilt.
The silver wasn't much, but it was still something.
His mother had made it clear that they weren't well off, and here he was, struggling to come to terms with it.
Ryn, grinning, dashed inside with the coins. He called out, "Ma! Look what big brother brought back!"
Kael'tar followed him, reluctantly stepping into the warm house.
His mother was sitting by the fire, her back to them as she hummed softly while stirring a pot.
When she turned to see the basket of chestnuts in Ryn's hands and the silver pouch in his other, her face lit up in a radiant smile. "Ryn, Carseain, this is too much! I didn't expect you to bring so much!"
Kael'tar lowered his gaze. "It's just chestnuts," he muttered, though even he could feel a strange warmth at her appreciation.
"Well, it's more than just chestnuts. It's a thoughtful gift from both of you." She walked over to Ryn, taking the silver from his hand, and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "And this silver... you shouldn't have. But I'll take it. We can put it to good use."
Ryn grinned and hopped up on the chair next to her. "I didn't do anything, Ma. Carseain found it in the market!"
Kael'tar shot him a look, but Ryn wasn't one to notice the subtle nuances.
Their mother smiled, squeezing his shoulder before turning back to the fire.
Kael'tar's gaze lingered on her for a moment.
She was unlike any noblewoman he had ever known. She had no grandeur about her—no majesty, no power. Just a woman who lived simply but with purpose.
The weight of the world didn't seem to hang on her shoulders the way it had hung on his own, but there was strength in the simplicity of her existence.
He still couldn't understand how she could live so humbly, yet he didn't want to disturb her way of life, for it was, in a strange way, calming.
As Kael'tar sat down on the rickety wooden chair, he felt an odd knot form in his chest. Despite all the strangeness of his current life—despite how far he had fallen from his once-mighty position—he couldn't deny the pull of something deeper, something that made him feel strangely content in this moment.
Maybe it was the fire crackling, the warmth of the small home, or perhaps the quiet comfort of family.
Kael'tar wasn't sure.
But for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe... maybe this wasn't so bad.
He rubbed his temples. I must be losing my edge, he thought. A Demon Emperor, reduced to enjoying... chestnuts.
As his mother began to prepare the chestnuts for dinner, Ryn ran off to fetch something from the other room.
Kael'tar took a moment to sit down by the table.
He watched as Ryn reappeared, holding up the small pouch of silver he had received from Haron. "I gave Ma most of the money, but I kept one silver for myself," Ryn said, holding it up with a proud grin. "It's for something important.
Kael'tar raised an eyebrow. "Something important, huh? Are you planning to buy a horse with that?"
Ryn shook his head earnestly. "Nah. Just something small, something I can use. But you know, Ma says we have to save for when things get better."
Kael'tar stared at the silver coin for a long moment, his thoughts running wild.
Ryn was so innocent, so hopeful. It was hard to reconcile this version of the boy with the one he had imagined—the one who was meant to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Instead, Ryn was concerned about small things, things that mattered to him in the now: his family, his future, his simple joys.
Kael'tar couldn't help but feel a strange twinge in his chest.
He had lived for a thousand years, yet this boy, this mere mortal, seemed to have a clarity Kael never possessed.
Was that what made mortals so different from demons? Was it the simple connection they shared with the world around them, the things they valued so deeply?
Kael'tar opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. What was he going to say? "I'll help you make your dreams come true," wasn't something he could promise—he was far too lost in his own struggles to make such a vow.
Instead, he merely gave a noncommittal grunt and leaned back in his seat. "You better make good use of it."
Ryn's eyes shone with determination. "I will!"
Their mother returned, having prepared the chestnuts and serving them with a simple meal of stew. "Eat up, both of you. It'll be good for you, especially with all the work we still have ahead of us."
As they sat down to eat, Kael'tar watched the family interact—his mother and Ryn chatting animatedly about their day, the warmth of the fire crackling softly in the hearth.
There was a strange, foreign feeling inside him, one he couldn't name. It wasn't quite comfort, but it was something close.