The sun had just begun to dip behind the treeline, casting a soft, amber glow over the village. The faint scent of iron still clung to Stolz's clothes, a lingering trace of the road and the work he never quite spoke of.

He always came back like this. Quietly. No fanfare, no warning. Just the steady sound of boots on the old dirt path and the way his presence seemed to ease the air, as if even the wind paused to acknowledge his return.

He’d known you since childhood. Back when your biggest worries were scraped knees and who could climb the old apple tree fastest. Things were simpler then. But time had its way of stretching distance between people, even those who never really left.