Date: October 29, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonorable.
Rosh approached the tower early in the morning, when the white world was just beginning to brighten. The sky above him was the same as always—flat, empty, endless—but in his soul, where there had only been emptiness recently, something he couldn't name now glowed warmly. The bag on his back weighed on his shoulders—about two hundred silver leaves, earned in a week of battles. Not many, but enough.
He crossed the threshold, and the glowing lines on the walls flared brighter, welcoming him. The corridor, the platform, the familiar silence. Everything was the same as six days ago, when he left. But he himself had changed. Not outwardly—the wounds had closed, leaving only pink scars. Internally. He didn't know how to explain it, and he wasn't going to try.
On the central platform, preparations for training were underway. Ulvia sat on a stone, fastening the gauntlet on her right hand. Sobra stood nearby, rolling his shoulders, his silver stripes pulsing in time with his breathing. Datuk, already fully armed with his axe on his back, paced the edge of the platform.
Rosh entered. Sobra noticed him first. The bear raised his head, snorted, and nudged Datuk's shoulder with his nose. The dwarf turned.
"There you are," Datuk said. His voice was as unreadable as ever. "Thought you'd croaked somewhere in the white wasteland. We'd have had to drag ourselves out to find you."
"As you can see, I didn't croak," Rosh replied, his voice as even and cold as always.
Ulvia rose from the stone and came closer. In her brown, deep eyes, relief flickered, but she didn't ask unnecessary questions. Just nodded.
"Whole?" she asked.
"Almost," Rosh answered.
Sobra approached him, nudged his shoulder with his nose, and in that gesture, that silent support, was more warmth than in all of Datuk's words. Rosh scratched the bear behind the ear—briefly, almost imperceptibly.
"How many did you gather?" Datuk asked, nodding at the bag.
Rosh dropped the bag onto the floor. Silver leaves spilled onto the glowing lines, and their radiance, mingling with the tower's light, flooded the platform with a soft, warm glow.
"About two hundred," Rosh said. "Plus what was already there. Should be enough."
"Two hundred," Datuk grunted. "Not bad. For a silent type, that's even good. Sit down, tell us."
---
They sat on stones at the edge of the platform. Ulvia sat opposite, Sobra lay beside her, his head on his paws. Datuk stood, arms crossed, looking down at Rosh.
"Where were you?" he asked. "What did you see?"
Rosh was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He wasn't going to tell everything. Only what mattered.
"First day, I found a zone with lizards," he began. "Five Warriors. Handled it quickly."
"Easy," Datuk nodded.
"Second day—a zone with a distorted field. Vectors worked with errors. Had to rely on the technique. Almost died, but won. Thirty leaves."
"Thirty?" Datuk smirked. "You were on a roll. Third day?"
"Mist," Rosh paused. "Creatures. Fifteen Warriors and five Pillars."
Ulvia frowned. Sobra flattened his ears.
"Five Pillars?" Datuk repeated. "And you handled them?"
"Handled them. One was stronger than the others. A Peak Pillar. Had to use everything I know."
"Wounded?" Ulvia asked quietly.
"Three blades to the chest," Rosh touched his chest, where the scars still showed under his clothes. "Regeneration handled it."
Datuk didn't say a word. Didn't ask how he survived. Didn't slap him on the shoulder. Just nodded—short, sharp.
"Not bad, mismatched eyes," he said.
"Then I lost consciousness. Woke up in a settlement."
"A settlement?" Datuk narrowed his eyes. "Inside the Tree?"
"Yes. Rabbits live there. Not guardians—ordinary inhabitants. They healed me."
"Rabbits?" Datuk grunted. "Tasty?"
"I didn't try," Rosh replied, his voice without irony. "They saved me."
"Alright," Datuk waved his hand. "What next?"
"The Tree allowed me to stay for thirty-six hours. Then I left. Gathered more leaves on the way back. Returned."
"That's it?" Datuk asked.
"That's it," Rosh answered.
Datuk looked at him with a long, heavy gaze. Then turned to Ulvia.
"Hear that?" he said. "Our silent one learned to talk. Looks like those rabbits loosened his tongue."
"Datuk," Ulvia said quietly, a warning in her voice.
"What?" the dwarf shrugged. "I'm just saying he did well. Two hundred leaves in a week—that's better than I thought. And that he survived—that's his business. He's not a kid."
Rosh said nothing. He knew Datuk couldn't express emotions. That behind his roughness and harshness was something he would never show.
---
In the evening, they sat by the fire. Datuk roasted meat, Ulvia sorted leaves, Sobra lay nearby, his head on the dwarf's knees. Rosh sat a little apart, leaning against the wall, watching the flames.
"You didn't tell us the most important thing," Ulvia said, not looking up.
"What?" Rosh asked.
"What you felt."
"Nothing," Rosh replied. "I felt nothing. I just did my job."
Datuk chuckled.
"That's our Rosh," he said. "Stone face, stone heart. Good fighter."
Sobra snorted—short, sharp—and nudged Datuk's shoulder with his nose. The dwarf, without looking, scratched him behind the ear.
"Tomorrow we start gathering leaves for you," Datuk said, addressing Rosh. "You're next for the green leaf. Don't let us down."
"I won't," Rosh replied.
They sat by the fire, and Rosh felt warmth spread through his body. Not from the flames—from something else. From the fact that he had returned. From the fact that he had been waited for. From the fact that he was not alone.
*Friends,* he thought, and that word, which he had never applied to himself, suddenly seemed fitting.
He didn't tell them. Didn't hug them goodbye when he left. Didn't thank them when he returned. They knew. He was sure—they knew.
Tomorrow would begin a new stage. Training, gathering leaves, preparing for the final battle. But today—a short rest and the silence that only exists among your own.
Rosh closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. Just for a few hours.