The cabin loomed in front of Leo, its familiar wooden walls a comforting sight against the fading light of dusk. The firelight flickered from within, casting a warm, orange glow through the small windows, and the smell of cooking stew reached his nose, making his stomach growl in anticipation. It was everything he had missed during his long and painful journey—the safety of home, the quiet presence of his father, the simple, steady rhythm of life in the Spine.
But as he stepped closer to the cabin, a knot twisted in his stomach. The weight of the compendium on his back was suddenly more pronounced. His body, battered and exhausted from the climb, felt as if it were made of stone. He wanted to drop it, wanted to leave it outside and forget about it. But deep down, he knew he couldn't. Not after what had happened, not after everything he had learned.
The voice, the whisper from the compendium—it still echoed in his mind. The ancient power it held was now a part of him, and he could feel its presence, like a fire burning in his chest. But what did it all mean? What was he supposed to do with this knowledge? He wasn't ready for it. He wasn't ready to be someone else, someone who understood magic, someone who was connected to something ancient and unknown.
He pushed open the door to the cabin and stepped inside, the warmth hitting him like a wave. His father, a broad-shouldered man with weathered hands and a face that had been shaped by years of hard labor, looked up from the hearth. He was stirring a pot of stew, his expression soft and calm, as if nothing in the world could bother him.
Leo's heart thudded in his chest. He wasn't sure why he felt this sudden wave of fear. He had never had trouble talking to his father before. But now, with the compendium in his possession, with the magic stirring in his blood, everything felt different. It was as if he were a stranger in his own home.
His father's eyes softened when he saw Leo, a brief flicker of concern crossing his face. "You're back," he said, his voice low and steady. "Did you find your way?"
Leo nodded, unable to speak for a moment. He was tired—physically and mentally—but more than that, he was overwhelmed by the weight of what had happened, what he had learned. He needed to tell his father about the compendium, about the Urgal, about everything that had changed in the span of a few short hours. But the words stuck in his throat, like a knot that wouldn't untangle.
His father gestured toward the table, the silent invitation clear. "Come, sit. Eat. You look like you could use it."
Leo hesitated for a moment, his hand brushing against the strap of the pack that held the compendium. He wanted to tell his father, but the words wouldn't come. What could he say? How could he explain the strange, ancient book and the magic it contained? How could he explain the whispers, the way the symbols seemed to come alive under his touch?
He sat down at the table, setting the pack beside him, but not taking it off. His father had already ladled some stew into a bowl and placed it in front of him, but Leo's mind wasn't on the food. His stomach clenched with nervousness, but the gnawing hunger inside him made him lift the spoon and take a bite.
The stew was warm, hearty, and familiar. But it didn't ease the unease that had settled in his chest. His father sat across from him, watching him quietly, waiting for him to speak. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy.
Finally, Leo set the spoon down, his hands trembling slightly. He tried to speak, to tell his father everything, but his throat tightened, as though the words had turned to stone. He swallowed hard, his mind racing, but nothing came out.
His father watched him, his eyes patient, though the concern was still there. Leo's heart pounded in his ears. His father had always been the strong one—the steady one. The one who had taught him everything he knew. But now, Leo felt like he was no longer the boy who had once looked up to him. Now, he was something else, someone touched by magic, someone tied to a force beyond understanding.
"I… I found something," Leo said finally, his voice cracking with the weight of his thoughts. He reached for his pack, but then hesitated. His fingers brushed the compendium's leather cover, feeling the pulse of ancient magic beneath his skin. It was as if the book were calling to him, urging him to reveal its secrets. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not until he understood it all.
"What did you find?" his father asked, his tone steady but curious.
Leo opened his mouth to speak, but the words tangled in his mind. What could he say? That he had found an ancient book with a language he couldn't understand? That he had fallen off a cliff and been saved by a dying Urgal who had given him the compendium? It sounded mad, even to him.
He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. He wanted to explain, to make his father understand, but the truth felt too big, too wild to put into words.
"I… I don't know," Leo whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's… it's hard to explain." He felt a lump form in his throat, and he blinked rapidly, trying to push away the overwhelming flood of emotions. "I don't think I can explain it."
His father's gaze softened, his expression filled with understanding. Leo's father didn't press him further, didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he simply sat there in silence, watching his son with a quiet, knowing look.
And Leo realized, for the first time, that his father didn't need to understand the compendium, or the magic, or any of the things that were changing inside him. His father didn't need to understand it because Leo wasn't alone in this. He had his father. And for now, that was enough.
The tension in Leo's chest eased slightly, and he let out a slow breath. He wasn't ready to talk about it all—not yet—but for the first time, he felt as if he didn't have to. He could take his time. The journey was his, and his alone.
He reached for his spoon again, his hands steadier now. His father, sensing the shift, simply nodded, returning to his own meal. The quiet between them was comfortable again, not filled with the weight of secrets, but with the unspoken bond that had always existed between them.
Leo didn't know what lay ahead—what the compendium would lead him to, what magic he would unlock. But for now, as he sat at the table with his father, he realized that the road ahead didn't have to be walked alone. He didn't have to tell his father everything right now. There was time.
For now, he would focus on the here and now—the warmth of the cabin, the comfort of a home that had always been there, and the promise of a new day.