The private dining chamber was smaller than Alex expected—no grand throne-hall spectacle, just a long oak table set near a wide hearth that crackled with fragrant cedar logs. Candles in iron holders cast warm pools of light across plates already heaped with roasted meats, spiced flatbreads, grilled vegetables glistening with oil, and bowls of dark berry compote. A pitcher of mulled wine sat steaming at the center.

  It smelled like home.

  Not Chicago exactly—no deep-dish pizza or Polish sausages—but the feeling was the same: crowded voices, overlapping laughter, someone passing bread before anyone asked, a child (Veyra’s youngest cousin) sneaking a second piece of honeyed fruit when no one was looking. Alex sat beside Veyra, shoulder brushing hers, and felt the knot in his chest loosen just a little.

  *This is familiar,* he thought.

  *Yeah,* the author replied—quieter than usual. *I might’ve… borrowed from my own memories. Sunday dinners on the South Side. Loud. Messy. Everyone talking over everyone. Felt right for this moment.*

  Alex glanced up at the ceiling, as if the voice lived there. *You didn’t have to.*

  *Had to. Ever since you came to Kharzad, I’ve sensed you might’ve felt homesick. On top of everyone fearing you and every situation I’ve thrown you in so far, it seemed only fitting to make you feel more welcomed to this world, albeit, only in a sense. It may not be like Chicago, but you can certainly pretend it is.*

  *It doesn’t feel pretend. It feels genuine. Thank you.*

  A small, almost shy pause from the author. *Good. And no problem.*

  Veyra’s mother—Queen Lira—passed him a plate of charred lamb skewers. “Eat,” she said gently. “You look like you’ve been living on trail rations.”

  Alex took one, smiling despite himself. “Feels like forever since I had a real meal with people who weren’t trying to kill me.”

  The table laughed—soft, warm. Veyra’s younger brother, Toren, leaned forward. “Tell us about the road. Veyra said you fought bounty hunters. And bandits. And giant insects.”

  Veyra rolled her eyes fondly. “Toren, let them eat first.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Alex said. He looked around the table—king, queen, siblings, cousins—and felt something settle. “It was… fun, actually. Just the two of us. Mountains. Forests. Campfires. Monsters that wanted to eat us. The usual.”

  Veyra’s lips curved. “He’s underselling it. We fought champion goblins, talked to polite trolls, exterminated horse-sized ants. He was fascinated by everything. Kept saying ‘back home we have ants the size of my thumb.’”

  The table chuckled. Queen Lira tilted her head. “And Chicago? He speaks of it like a legend.”

  Alex shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s just… a city. Big. Loud. Everyone’s different—different skin, different languages, different food. Nobody cares as long as you keep moving. Kind of like Kharzad.”

  King Kharos leaned back, swirling his wine. “Then perhaps you will feel at home here.”

  Alex met his eyes. “I already do.”

  A beat of quiet gratitude moved around the table.

  Veyra’s hand found his under the table—brief, warm squeeze.

  The king watched the gesture. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

  “You two are not subtle,” he said dryly.

  Veyra flushed—faint red under gold skin. “Father.”

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  Queen Lira laughed softly. “Let them be, Kharos. They have earned a little peace.”

  Toren grinned wickedly. “Are you going to court her properly, Otherworlder? Or just keep punching kings?”

  Veyra leaned toward Alex, voice low but loud enough for the table.

  “He already punched a king for me. I think that counts as courting.”

  The table erupted in laughter—warm, approving. Even Kharos chuckled, shaking his head.

  “I’m working on it,” Alex managed, face warm.

  The mood stayed light, easy, familiar. Alex answered questions about Chicago street food, the CTA train, why anyone would willingly eat something called “deep-dish.” Veyra told stories of their journey—how he’d talked to friendly trolls like old friends, how he’d laughed until he cried after fighting giant spiders.

  Eventually the younger ones were sent to bed. The table quieted. Servants cleared plates. Only the king, queen, Veyra, and Alex remained.

  Kharos leaned forward, voice lower. “You asked earlier if we summon Otherworlders here.”

  Alex nodded.

  “We do not,” the king said firmly. “That forbidden art belonged to Valthar alone. Their circles, their rituals—all destroyed with their castle. You were the only one summoned in living memory—at least to our knowledge.”

  Alex exhaled. “So I really am the last, as far as I know.”

  “Perhaps,” Kharos said. “Or perhaps there are others lost in forgotten corners. But here? No. You are the first… and so far, the only.”

  The queen reached across and touched Alex’s wrist. “And you are welcome.”

  Kharos’s expression sobered.

  “As for the one who collared my daughter…” He paused. “We have only begun to search. Spies. Old records. Whispers from border clans. The ‘master’ is careful—too careful. But we will find him. When we do, I will inform you both immediately. Veyra has unfinished business. I will not stand in her way.”

  Veyra’s hand tightened on Alex’s. “Thank you, Father.”

  Kharos nodded. Then a small smile returned. “In the meantime… I invite you, Alex, to join our adventurers’ guild here in Kharzad. Take quests. Explore. Kill time with my daughter.” He glanced at Veyra with open amusement. “I do not mind how much time you spend together.”

  Alex blinked. “You’re… okay with that?”

  “I trust my daughter’s judgment,” Kharos said simply. “And after today, I trust yours.”

  Alex swallowed. “Thank you.”

  The king rose. “Rest tonight. Tomorrow you register. And we begin hunting the shadow that dared touch my daughter.”

  He paused at the door, looking back at Alex. “You remind me of myself at your age,” he said quietly. “Be careful who you trust… but trust her. She chose well.”

  He left with the queen, leaving Alex and Veyra alone by the dying fire.

  Alex stared into the flames. *Thank you again, for bringing a bit of home into this world.* He talked to the other voice in his head.

  *You’re welcome,* the author replied. *Family dinner like the one you had, always meant a lot to me. So I’m glad you feel same way about it.*

  Alex’s throat tightened. *Thanks. And double thanks for not making this more dramatic than it would have been.”

  *It’s the least I can do. But dramatic is just beginning,” author said, in the most crypt wat. “Expect a lot more to come.”

  *And there it is.” Alex groaned.

  Veyra leaned against his shoulder.

  “You okay?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah,” he said. “As okay as I can be.”

  She smiled—small, real. “Good.”

  They sat in the quiet, fire crackling, two people who had found something rare in a world that wanted them dead.

  A home. And each other.

  Alex waited until Veyra stepped away to speak with a servant about rooms.

  Then he leaned back, staring into the embers.

  *Okay, level with me,* he thought. *The ‘master’ guy or whatever he, she is. You know who it is. Or what it is. Spill.*

  The author’s voice came back—almost amused. *You’re about 5 to six chapters early to be asking me that buddy.*

  *Come on. We’re in Kharzad now. King’s got spies. Veyra’s got unfinished business. Give me something. A hint. A name. Anything.*

  *Spoilers.*

  *Seriously?*

  *Dead serious. Some things have to unfold naturally. You’ll get there when the story’s ready.*

  *You’re killing me here. But I digress, I guess.* Alex scratched his head, defeated.

  *Patience, Alex. Good stories take time. And you’re welcome for the dinner scene, again. I even gave you extra breadsticks in spirit.*

  Alex groaned aloud. “Yeah, yeah, whatever dude.”

  Veyra turned back, eyebrow raised. “Talking to the voice again?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “He’s being difficult.”

  “You never did tell me how he started to speak to you.” She sat beside him again, closer this time.

  “Well, when I awoke into this world and had that whole confrontation with the king and his pals at Valthar,” Alex expanded more on his meeting with the voice in his head. “That’s when he started talking to me, can’t really explain if its just a power I got when I got here, or if he’s just butting in.”

  “Well, he seems to care enough for your wellbeing in our world,” she said. “I can only thank him for letting us have a chance to meet.” She smiled at him.

  Alex looked at her—really looked. The firelight dancing in her crimson eyes. “Yeah, yeah did,” he said softly. *Can’t give him to much credit for that.*

  *HEY I HEARD THAT!*

  They stayed like that until the logs burned low. Tomorrow would bring quests, spies, shadows. But tonight… tonight was enough.