Chapter 35 THE KEEPER OF THE WOODS
Dorian shoved Serra behind him, raising his hunting knife into a defensive stance. The darkness of the forest pressed in on them like a silent threat. Even the crackling fire seemed to hush in the face of the approaching footsteps.
"Whoever you are, show yourself," Dorian said. His voice was an Alpha's command, but the stranger in the woods did not obey.
Instead, a wheezy, aged chuckle rose from the trees.
"Still using that damn command voice, aren't you, boy? I'd forgotten how much you sound like your father."
The bushes parted, and out stepped not a monster, but an old man carrying an ancient rifle, a brace of rabbits slung over his shoulder, and a massive mountain dog at his side. His hair was snow-white, his face a map of deep wrinkles, but his eyes shone with an amber keenness that matched Dorian's own.
Dorian’s tense shoulders instantly dropped. He lowered the knife. Pure astonishment washed over his face.
"Silas?" Dorian said, disbelief coloring his tone. "I... I thought you were dead."
The old man, Silas, slung his rifle over his shoulder and limped toward the fire. "Not dead. just tired of your palace politics and retired. But I see the circus has come to my woods."
Kael choked on the piece of meat he was trying to swallow. "Uncle Silas?! Holy shit! You're alive?"
Silas looked at Kael and shook his head. "Still haven't learned how to eat properly, you big baby. I hope you haven't forgotten how to fight."
Valeria stood up, stunned. "Is this... Former General Silas? Our father's right hand?"
"The very same," Dorian said, walking up to Silas and hugging him tightly. It wasn't a formal embrace; it was like a son finding a lost father. "What are you doing here?"
"Living," Silas said, thumping Dorian hard on the back. Then he turned to Serra. His eyes narrowed, scanning her from head to toe. "And you... you brought the girl. The Red one."
Serra tensed. But Silas smiled. "Good. I can smell the blood from here. You finally found a mate worthy of you, Dorian. I was tired of those skinny palace girls."
(THE CABIN AND THE FEAST)
Silas invited them to his secret cabin just over the ridge, insisting they "not settle for a campfire."
The cabin was built of massive logs, and the inside was the complete opposite of the palace's coldness. A roaring fire crackled in the hearth. The walls were lined with old weapons, maps, and dried herbs. The place smelled of stew, tobacco, and a life well-lived.
"Sit," Silas said, pointing to the wooden table. "Lukas, isn't it, computer boy? Put down that wine. I'll get you a real drink."
Silas pulled dusty, unlabeled bottles from a cellar. He poured a clear liquid he called "Moon Strangler" into glasses.
Lukas took a sip, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh my God," he wheezed, clutching his throat. "What is this? Jet fuel?"
"It's called the water of life, son," Silas laughed. "It warms you up. Or kills you. Depends on your constitution."
The night turned into a joyful chaos. Kael and Silas swapped old war stories, the number of enemies and Kael's heroism inflating with every retelling. Valeria played with Silas's dog, laughing in a way that shed all her "Minister" seriousness.
Under the table, Serra held Dorian’s hand. Dorian was smiling. Truly smiling. The weight of the world on his shoulders seemed to melt away in the warmth of this cabin.
"I haven't seen him like this in years," Valeria whispered, leaning into Serra. "Silas was the one who trained Dorian after our father died. He taught him not just how to fight, but how to survive. To Dorian, he's like a second father."
(DRUNKENNESS AND MEMORIES)
As the night went on, the bottles emptied. Lukas had passed out with his head on the table, muttering, "I'm a hacker, not a fighter..." Kael was dozing in front of the fireplace, examining one of Silas's old swords.
Dorian and Serra were squeezed into an old armchair by the fire. Silas rocked in his chair, puffing on his pipe.
"So you learned about the seed," Silas said, his voice suddenly serious.
The joy in the room froze for a moment.
"Did you know?" Dorian asked.
"I knew," Silas said. "It was your father's greatest mistake and his greatest sacrifice. But we won't talk about that tonight. Tonight..." He raised his glass. "...Tonight, we just live. Because tomorrow, you'll need strength to fight that seed."
Silas looked at Serra. "Take care of him, girl. He's more fragile than he looks. His shell is hard, but his inside... his inside is soft like his father."
"I know," Serra said, resting her head on Dorian's shoulder. "I will protect him."
Dorian kissed Serra's hair. Relaxed by the alcohol and warmth, he said, "She doesn't need to protect me, Silas. She completes me."
Silas smiled, blowing a smoke ring. "That's the answer I wanted to hear. Now go to bed. My guest bed isn't wide, but I'm sure you'll find a way to fit."
(PEACE UNTIL DAWN)
That night, they slept under thick wool blankets in the creaky bed of Silas’s guest room. The wind howled outside, but inside was safe.
Dorian spooned Serra from behind. His breathing was steady against the back of her neck.
"I like this," Dorian whispered, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
"What?"
"This. Just... being us. Kael's snoring, Lukas's babbling... Silas's disgusting drink. No palace. No crown."
"This is real," Serra said. "Everything at the palace was a role. But tonight was real."
"Then," Dorian said, pulling her tighter. "We will fight to protect this reality. When we get back, we'll clean house. And then... maybe we'll grab Silas and come here more often."
"Maybe," Serra said, her eyes closing. "Maybe this will be our sanctuary."
They didn't dream that night. Nightmares, prophecies, seeds... they all stayed outside the door. In that small cabin, there was only a family and the happiness they had stolen for one night.