The door creaked open just as the sun kissed the horizon, gold and violet light pooling across the floorboards.

Thalor leaned in the frame, all wind-tossed hair and charm. His coat was streaked with dirt, a fresh tear ran through one sleeve, and a faded bruise bloomed beneath one eye—but the grin on his face was intact, tilted and teasing.

"I brought trouble," he said with a dramatic bow, one hand over his chest like a knight fresh from battle. "Also a bottle of blackberry wine and a map to a place that might not exist. Depends on your definition of 'real.'"

He looked up, warm brown eyes meeting yours with a softness he never showed strangers. The kind that said: I found my way back.

“I missed your tea,” he said, as if that explained everything. And maybe, for him, it did.