"Den! Could you run down to the store and grab the groceries? I already told the attendant you'd be stopping by to pick them up," Racheal called from the kitchen, her voice slightly muffled over the sound of clattering pots.
Denwen groaned from the couch, lazily tugging on a branded polo to pair with his shorts. "Come on! You still don't trust me to do your shopping? After all these years?"
Before Racheal could respond, Nicole sauntered into the room, shaking her head dramatically like she'd just witnessed the fall of a great empire. "Tsk, tsk, tsk… You might be perfect in every other way, Den, but even the heavens must balance perfection with a fatal flaw." She pressed her hand to her cheek, adopting the serene pose of a wise, ancient sage. "And yours… is haggling."
Denwen clutched his chest as if struck by an invisible blade. "Nicole… how could you? After everything we've been through…"
Nicole just shrugged. "I speak only truth."
From the kitchen, Racheal chimed in without missing a beat. "She's not wrong, Den. You negotiate like a five-year-old trying to trade a stick for a gold coin. And none of us here are five."
Denwen dramatically collapsed to his knees, hands slapping the floor as though the weight of their betrayal had physically crushed him. "I am being slandered in my own home!"
Before anyone could console him—not that they would—Varek strolled in from the hallway, yawning as he adjusted his glasses. "What's this? Denwen on the floor? Must be Grocery Day."
Denwen pointed an accusatory finger. "Et tu, Father?"
Varek smirked, crossing his arms. "Son, the last time you did the shopping, you paid full price… during a discount sale. The cashier gave you change out of pity."
Nicole burst out laughing, nearly doubling over, while Racheal wiped a pretend tear from her eye. "We still talk about it at dinner," she added.
Denwen stared up at the ceiling. "Why… why was I taken into a family of professional bullies?"
"Because the universe loves balance," Nicole replied sagely, patting him on the shoulder like a war veteran.
Varek handed Denwen the grocery list with a grin. "Go on, Champion. Try not to bankrupt us. Not like you can, it has already been done for you"
Denwen took the list with the weariness of a man walking to his execution. "One day... I swear I'll master the art of the bargain. And when that day comes, you'll all regret this slander."
Nicole snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Now hurry up, Imperfect One."
And with that, Denwen trudged toward the door, the sound of his family's laughter following him all the way out.
---
The break had begun immediately after the end-of-semester evaluation, giving students a rare chance to return home and recharge before the storm of the new semester. The whispers about their first dungeon dive were already everywhere—parents scrambling to fortify their kids with extra training, rare gear, and secrets pulled from long-forgotten scrolls.
Denwen, however, was taking his moment of quiet.
He strolled through the twilight streets of Ashvale, ear pods snug as the golden hour bathed the rooftops in soft amber light. Above, hover cars glided by in orderly streams, their usual honks and engines dulled beneath the ocean of sound flowing through his ears.
It was Xena.
It was always Xena.
Tonight's track—"Veil of the Forgotten"—was one of his favorites. The song unfolded like a secret being whispered from another realm. Chimes drifted through the melody, layered beneath a fragile electronic hum, and her voice—breathless and weightless—carried words that felt like old myths brought back to life.
Xena wasn't just popular. She was… unreal.
Some even said she wasn't fully human. Not exactly.
Theories floated around—whispers that her voice could manipulate essence, that the reason her music hit so deeply was because it resonated on frequencies most people couldn't even perceive. There was even a rumor she'd been found as a child, standing alone in the ruins of an ancient temple, singing to herself in a language no one understood.
Denwen didn't care if any of it was true.
Because when Xena sang, the chaos of his world untangled.
The weight on his shoulders lightened.
And for a few minutes, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely alone in how he saw things.
"She sings so well…" he muttered to himself, a soft smile creeping in. "She's one of the few people in this world I'd protect, no matter what."
The bell above the door jingled as he entered the corner store, the anti-theft runes flickering blue as they scanned his essence. The comforting scent of dried herbs and old paper greeted him as he removed his right ear pod, the music fading to a gentle background hum.
"Hey, Mary. I'm here again," he called, stepping toward the counter.
Mary glanced up and beamed. "Hey, cutie. Right on time."
She ducked behind the counter, retrieving several bulky bags and plopping them in front of him.
Denwen blinked. "Uh… why so much?"
Mary shrugged. "Maybe your folks are expecting a siege. Or maybe Racheal thinks you're finally gonna hit that growth spurt."
He chuckled, slipping his fingers through the handles with practiced ease. "Yeah, well. I better get home before you-know-who starts making comments."
Mary watched him turn to leave, eyes briefly trailing over the way he handled the weight without a second thought. There was something magnetic about the boy, even if he didn't seem to notice.
She cleared her throat and shook her head, almost laughing at herself.
"Alright, Mary, calm down. He's sixteen. Sixteen," she whispered, smirking as the door closed behind him.
Outside, Denwen reinserted the ear pod, the music swelling just in time for the chorus.
And as he walked, he thought again about Xena, the girl from the ruins, the girl whose voice could make him forget the ache of trying to belong.
Maybe, one day, he'd find a way to meet her.
But for now, her songs were enough to keep the shadows at bay.
---
Denwen nudged the door open with his shoulder, balancing the hefty grocery bags like a pro. He barely took two steps inside before the familiar chaos hit him like a wall.
The living room was alive.
Loud, booming laughter from Varek rumbled from the couch as he argued with Vahn, both of them talking over each other like two rival kings.
"I'm telling you, the blade's weight distribution matters more than the core density!" Vahn barked, slamming his hand on the table.
Varek scoffed, waving him off with a grin. "Oh, please! Says the man who nearly threw his back out trying to swing a longblade. Maybe ask your chiropractor what he thinks about weight distribution!"
They both roared into laughter, starting the cycle all over again.
To the side, Roy was sprawled across the rug, using his hands to launch Nicole's plush toys into the air with little bursts of essence, while Nicole squealed, diving to catch them mid-flight.
"Roy, higher! Higher!" Nicole demanded, her hair a wild mess from chasing after the stuffed animals.
"I'm not trying to launch it into orbit, Nicole," Roy laughed. "Well… unless you really want a new moon."
In the kitchen, Denwen spotted Kara standing beside Racheal, helping chop up vegetables with calm, practiced movements. Kara didn't even spare him a glance, keeping her focus entirely on the cutting board, as though he was just part of the furniture. Typical.
Denwen set the bags on the kitchen counter with a heavy sigh. "Home sweet home."
Racheal glanced over and flashed him a smile. "Perfect timing. I was just telling Kara how you always seem to come back right when the hard part is over."
Denwen smirked. "What can I say? Talent."
Kara gave the faintest huff, still not meeting his gaze, her knife slicing a carrot with surgical precision.
He leaned over slightly, whispering just loud enough for her to hear, "Hey Kara, are we pretending I don't exist today or tomorrow?"
She ignored him, sliding the chopped carrots into the bowl like a queen dismissing a peasant.
Denwen chuckled to himself. Guess it's both.
Before he could try again, Racheal wiped her hands on a towel and clapped her palms together. "You know what? We should go out tonight. Grab some food, see the city lights, talk a bit. Could do us some good to get fresh air."
Denwen raised a brow. "Just us?"
"Of course—" Racheal began, but—
"I'm coming too!" Nicole piped up from the living room, practically leaping onto the couch armrest. "I'm old enough, and I want fries. And ice cream. And—"
Racheal looked heavenward. "I didn't mean it like a family trip, Nicole."
Nicole folded her arms, her expression dead serious. "Well, I'm family."
Denwen snorted. "She's got you there."
"Please, Rach, pleeease," Nicole begged, her voice turning into that weaponized whine only little sisters perfected. "I'll be so good."
Before Racheal could relent, Roy sat up and ruffled Nicole's hair. "I'll keep her company. We'll hang back, play a few rounds of Skybreaker, yeah? You can owe me later."
Nicole blinked. "Wait. But—"
Roy leaned in close and whispered just loud enough for Denwen to hear, "And that, my friends, is what we call a noble sacrifice."
Nicole pouted but, after a moment, relented. "Fine. But you better make me popcorn."
"Deal."
Racheal sighed in relief, looking to Denwen. "Alright then. Go change into something decent. You look like you just crawled out of training."
Denwen glanced down at his shorts and branded polo. "Wow. The disrespect in this house."
Kara finally—finally—looked up from the cutting board, just to roll her eyes at him before turning away again.
Denwen smirked. "Ah. Progress."
And with that, the house carried on around him. Voices overlapped, laughter rose from the living room, and the warm, chaotic pulse of family life filled the space like music.
For a moment, Denwen just stood there, taking it all in.