Incense burns and fills the air with flagrant smoke.

Ezran's on his knees, head bowed in front of his mother's alter, palms pressed together as he mumbles in hushed prayer. Rayla kneels on the dirt beside him, hands folded neatly on her lap and listens. She offers her silence and respect to the alter instead.

In front of her, Queen Sarai is carved in stone, delicately molded to capture her beauty and heart. She'd heard many stories of the woman, spread and spoken by civilians and her own two sons. She noticed all of them vouched for her courage and kindness. As far as Rayla's concerned, she's grateful for the woman. The war would still rage if not for the way she raised her sons.

In the far horizon, the sky bleeds orange and yellow hues of warmth. A whisper of a breeze grazes her cheek. Combined with the earthy scent of doused incense, the atmosphere is soft and soothing. Ezran's voice eventually hushes into silence.

"You know, if I could be granted a single wish, I'd wish they were still here," he starts, not necessarily with a sigh. For a second, he also glances towards his father's alter. "For guidance, mostly. I always fear I'm not doing enough as king, even though I'm just trying to do what's right by this kingdom."

When she looks over sidelong, he looks younger somehow. Underneath those royal garbs and golden crown, she sees the boy forced to grow up too fast.

"What more can you do? Is that not enough?"

Ezran shrugs loosely. "I'm not sure. It's just…I feel overwhelmed sometimes."

She places a hand on his shoulder. "That's okay. Just remember, your parents loved this kingdom and everything in it. That means your job now is to protect it. So long as you keep that in mind, then I've no doubt you're doing it right."

He remains silent, unmoving. She can't see on his face if her words are finding their mark, but his shoulders are relaxed and the hardness on his face has lifted slightly. He's silent for a moment longer and it makes her wonder just how much he's listening.

"How about you, Rayla?" he pipes up, shifting course. "If you had one wish, what would it be?"

Her lips pull to a small concept is almost childlike, like a stretch of imagination, or based in fantasy. She's had to ground herself in the soreness of reality for a while now. Her reality. But strange enough, she knows her answer.

"I wish my parents were here too."

She doesn't hesitate because she's known for years. But her wish is largely different from Ezran's. "I want to apologize to them. For a long time, I called them cowards. I despised them for what they did. Having been through it now…they didn't deserve any of it."

His expression is thoughtful, appreciative. She's gotten better at being honest. He pushes himself up to his feet, catching her attention. "You should forgive yourself."

She nods. For once, her voice is clear and calm, "I know."

Ezran's smile is radiant and proud, but he faces the side so she only sees the corner of his lips. He gazes out into the quiet horizon. "Your last day, right?"

"That's right."

"You should come back soon then. You're welcome anytime here."

Rayla stands up and follows his gaze. "I will."

There's an air of certainty this time, unlike the last. Ezran tips his head towards the direction of town. "Callum said he wanted to see you before you go. He might be waiting at the stable."

She nods, but not before getting one last final look. She memorizes the curl of his hair, each line and crinkle of his smile, the way he stands up straighter now that he's king. She commits it to memory.

"Thank you, Ezran. For everything."

The morning air is still crisp and cool. The streets are nearly empty this time in the morning, but remnants from yesterday's festivities still remain.

Rayla's already mapping her route back to Xadia, recalling the stops she made along the way. She fast-walks towards the stable, ties up her hair and slips into a loose coat. Remembering where she is, she pulls out what gold she has left to tip the keepers. Even now, she still finds the custom rather strange.

Sure enough, Callum is there when she arrives. He's in the midst of dozing off, or was, because he pushes himself off the post with a jolting start when she walks into view.

She smirks and waves a casual hand. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

He straightens up slowly and yawns into his hand. "Apparently not. What about you?"

Rayla shrugs. It's not hard to compare, especially when the comforts of a proper bed is infrequent in the Guard. She's used to sleeping on the ground. "Pretty good, actually."

She watches with mild amusement as Callum valiantly fights another wave of drowsiness threatening to crash over. His lids are half-open, and he forces himself to yawn again, just to keep them from closing.

"You should have slept in. You seemed exhausted last night," she ventures, crossing her arms. She knows him well enough he won't admit it. He'll resort to stubbornness if it comes to that.

"But I wanted to see you off," he says, but his voice is groggy. It gives him away. Perhaps his exhaustion, or maybe even a mild morning hangover, is interfering with his filter.

She follows up with a sigh. "Then could you sit down, at least?"

As if she just gave an order, he does just that.

Now that he's in less danger of tripping over himself, she brushes past him to where her horse feeds on grains and roughage. Rolling up her sleeves, she hefts the saddle on the worktable and gets started on untangling the cords and untying belt loops.

Callum watches quietly, listening to the sounds of squeaky leather and clinking metal, mesmerized as she inspects the saddle for wear and tear.

"I still don't know why you left, you know," he pipes up suddenly.

She pauses her task, and when she turns her head over her shoulder, there's no strain or discomfort in her expression, just confusion.

"I never told you?"

He shakes his head.

With a sigh, Rayla turns and leans against the table. She closes her eyes, contemplating how bizarre it is that she's going to talk about her parents twice now just this morning. Already her day is filled with unusual happenstances.

"I've brought up my parents with you before, haven't I?"

"A few times."

She looks down at her palms and rubs the calloused spots, the way she does when she talks about something slightly uncomfortable. "They were part of the Guard too. I never saw them after that and eventually, they become strangers to me. As you know, I was raised by someone else."

He remains silent. He already knew. Perhaps it was always that simple. She'd joined out of familial obligation and tradition.

She makes a cutting motion with her hand. "It's not why I joined," she adds, as if reading his mind. He blinks, appraising the hardening expression taking over.

She continues, "All my life, I'd always been curious. I wanted to know why they did it. Why they left. Why was the job so much bigger than me?"

Callum gulps, sensing where this is going. Part of him regrets bringing it up now.

"I used to rack my brain thinking about it. As a parent, what was so important out there in the world, that you would leave your child? Someone you're supposed to love, right? Neither of them stayed so I was kept in the dark." A hollow smile surfaces, followed by a defeated sigh. "And then the war ended. Right in front of me was an opportunity to solve my life's greatest mystery."

He peers at her cautiously. "You followed their footsteps."

She swallows hard. He's hit it right on the nail. "Imagine. Going through all of that just to find out it's not worth it," she says reflectively, bitterly. She bites down the memory. "I suppose I really am their daughter, aren't I? Ironically, it meant leaving behind someone important and dear to me as well."

Silence stretches between them. It doesn't take him long to realize she means him.

Her expression crinkles a little and morphs into something apologetic. "I'm sorry I tested our relationship like that. It was selfish. I didn't stop to consider how it hurt you," she says, inwardly hoping this apology is her last. How horrible it feels to be so full of sorry and have nothing to show for it.

Callum looks more awake now after her small revelation.

Rayla pushes herself off the table and focuses again on the saddle. "Mind if I borrow a hand?"

He fishes himself out of deep thought and rushes to her side in a matter of seconds. Together, they tackle her mount with the worn-out saddle and Callum decides he won't prod about her parents any longer. At the same time, he remembers how familiar this feeling is. The thought of her leaving again, with no timeline for return, puts a bitter taste in his mouth.

He ambles over to her side and pats the mare softly once they're finished securing the bolts.

"I guess I'm good to go," she says, stepping back to appraise the steed. She turns to him. "Anything else you want to know?"

He supposes a proper goodbye is in order. "Nothing else. Just…be careful out there. Keep your eyes on the road, take shelter from rain, get some rest…things like that. I know you're more than capable, but can you promise me you'll look after yourself?"

Rayla looks up at him, eyes gentle and bright. She knows he's only asking for his own sake and assurance.

This time, she'll give it to him.

When she reaches up to kiss him, it's light as air, like particles meeting and separating. And yet, his lips are warm and so are hers. He soaks in the feathery feeling of the moment, her earthy scent filling his senses, her hand on his chest, her lips on his, even for the small and miniscule moment before she pulls away.

Afterwards, he's caught between confusion and bliss.

She smiles, one last effort to convince him she'll be steady and careful. "I promise."

Callum watches as she hoists herself up on her steed.

"Any chance I could convince you to stay?" he asks coyly, perhaps for old times' sake.

He expects an eye-roll or a scoff. Something along the lines of 'Not again', but he doesn't get one. Instead, her face is instilled with contemplation.

"One day," she finally says. From her perch, she smirks down at him. "…but not today. Maybe if you ask me later?"

He stares with wide eyes and raised brows. "Later? How long are we talking?"

She shrugs. "A year, at most?"

"Just a year?" he echoes in disbelief.

For some reason, Rayla finds his shock rather amusing. "Well, I have a few things to sort out at the Guard. I can't leave my comrades in the dust just like that. That's not how it works unfortunately," she explains as a matter-of-fact.

He still hasn't processed his disbelief yet. "I was prepared for another five."

Now she scoffs and gives him the eye roll he expects. "It's entirely up to you."

She decides to leave it at that. A promise to both princes. She'll do better fulfilling them this time. With a small kick, she prompts her creature to an unhurried trot out of the open gate. She shoots Callum one last look. He understands her better now. That alone makes the visit well worth it.

"Take care."

"See you soon."

Somehow, she leaves Katolis with renewed hope and vigour.

Somehow, her despairing soul is rocked to quiet waiting.

Somehow, she's found it – amnesty, sealed with a promise. How lucky, for someone who doesn't consider herself blessed. Even as the cold breeze caresses her skin as she rides off, her bones and chest are filled with warmth.

Now that it's finished, I want to thank all the lovely and wonderful readers who've taken interest and left their thoughts! Regarding the ending, perhaps down the line, I'll make an epilogue forwarding a few years later. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed it! - Mint