Kaelen didn’t answer. His throat was too tight. He watched the windmills turn—slow, rhythmic heartbeats of a land that had learned to breathe again. Down the winding dirt path, he could see the village gates. They were draped in sun-bleached banners of saffron and silk, snapping in the autumn breeze.
The air in Aethelgard didn’t just smell of pine and hearthfire anymore; it smelled of victory. [S4E33] A Golden Homecoming
They reached the center square just as the sun dipped below the horizon, turning the entire world a bruised, beautiful purple. Kaelen’s mother stood by the well. She looked older, her hair a silver frost, but her eyes were the same fierce emeralds he’d carried in his memory through every cold night in the trenches. Kaelen didn’t answer