The return to Solmere should have been triumphant.
Instead, it was… complicated.
The first complication came in the form of two massive shadow bulls pulling a luxury caravan straight up to the city gates.
The second complication was the guards.
Tele-Stones had already sent warnings ahead—reports that the Crystal Caves had been cleared, that shadow summons had been used extensively for excavation, and that an absurd amount of mana bulbs had been recovered.
What the reports had not mentioned was that the shadow summons were now functioning as draft animals. Or that said shadow summons would arrive two days later.
So when the caravan rolled to a halt beneath the gate towers, drawn by two crackling, purple-and-black Grimsteeds, the guards froze.
Weapons half-raised.
Eyes wide.
Someone whispered, "Is that… legal? I'm calling for back up."
Someone else whispered, "Do we shoot it?"
No one moved.
From the outside, the caravan itself looked almost disappointingly normal—an eight-seat travel coach with a small rear trunk. No banners. No insignia. No sign that it housed an entire dimensional living space inside.
The guards stepped closer. Now numbering around twenty.
Knocked.
Hard.
Inside the dimensional space, Jax felt the alert pulse through his system—the same warning tone that activated whenever something disturbed the caravan's protective barrier.
He groaned.
Slowly, carefully, he untangled himself from a tangle of exhausted limbs, bare skin, and warm bodies that had very clearly not gotten much sleep.
He found shorts.
That was about as far as he got.
A moment later, the side door of the caravan opened.
And Jax stepped out.
Barefoot.
Shirtless.
Sun-kissed skin stretched over a very unambiguous adventurer's build, muscles relaxed but unmistakably present. Six-plus feet of casually confident menace, framed by morning light.
The guards collectively forgot how breathing worked.
"Good morning," Jax said politely.
Someone dropped a spear.
A captain recovered first. "Ahem. Identification?"
"Jax," he replied easily. "Guild-registered. Business owner. I believe you were expecting… us."
Murmurs spread.
"Yes, well," the captain said carefully, eyes flicking to the shadow bulls, "we were informed shadows were involved. Not… this."
"They're very well behaved," Jax assured him.
One of the Grimsteeds snorted, sending a ripple of shadow-energy across the road.
The guards flinched.
"And the rest of your party?" the captain asked.
"They're inside."
The captain frowned. "We… didn't see anyone else enter."
Jax sighed. "Right. One moment."
He turned and stepped back into the caravan.
From the outside, the guards watched him walk into the carriage. They could only see two large seats that could fit 8 people...empty.
And vanish.
A beat passed.
Then the side door opened again.
Llandra stepped out first.
Even half-asleep, wearing one of Jax's oversized shirts, hair slightly mussed, she carried herself with quiet, regal composure. She stood straight, nodded politely to the guards, and immediately radiated authority.
Then Bunny followed.
Barefoot. Stretching. Yawning.
"Are we home?" she asked, squinting at the sun.
Then Zee, blinking behind her glasses, adjusting her shirt and trying to look awake.
And finally—
Nyxian.
Hungover. Limping. Hair everywhere.
She was trying to put on her shirt.
She was not succeeding.
One hand clutched fabric. The other covered what the fabric was failing to do.
She looked at the guards, groaned, and waved lazily.
"We're here," she announced. "The heroes have returned. Please let us pass so we can go back to sleep."
She turned to walk back inside.
The guards stood frozen.
Someone whispered, "Did you see—"
"No," someone else whispered urgently. "But I think—"
"There was no—"
"I swear—"
Later, every guard would tell a slightly different version of this story.
None of them would agree.
All of them would insist Nyxian had definitely almost caused a legendary nip slip.
(It had not happened.)
Recognition finally set in.
"The Vixens," someone breathed.
The captain straightened immediately. "Clear the gate!"
The caravan rolled forward.
The Grimsteeds pulled smoothly into the city.
And the legend was born.
They didn't stop in town.
Instead, the caravan veered toward the outskirts—toward land that had once been empty.
Until it wasn't.
A three-story house stood at the edge of a plateau, sunlight glinting off stone and enchanted glass. A fountain danced at the front. A massive storage barn rested to the side.
And behind it—
A pool.
Infinity-edge.
Steam curling upward.
Overlooking the lake where everything had begun.
The Vixens stepped out slowly.
Confused.
Then stunned.
Then sprinting.
"This—this is—" Bunny gasped.
"A pool!" Zee cried.
Nyxian froze, then turned slowly. "Is this… ours?"
Jax smiled.
"Home," he said. "With me. If you'll have it."
The reaction was immediate.
Hugs.
Kisses.
Tears.
Nyxian, fully awake now, pointed dramatically. "We're christening everything."
Jax laughed. "We've got time."
This wasn't an inn.
This wasn't borrowed space.
This was theirs.
Roots.
A future.
A place to return to.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
They dragged themselves upstairs toward the massive bed waiting on the second floor.
Jax watched them go, smiling softly.
There was work to do for him.
But first—
They were home.
And every great adventurer deserved a nap.