Thorne followed Arletta for only a few feet before his patience snapped. Without a word, he turned abruptly and started walking toward the front door, his boots echoing ominously on the marble floor.

"Where do you think you're going?" Arletta's voice was sharp as she quickened her pace to catch up with him.

"I'm going to visit my friends," Thorne replied coldly, not bothering to look back at her. The fury that he had tried his hardest to keep down during his meeting with Uncle was now bubbling to the surface, ready to explode. He needed to vent his frustration—perhaps by drowning it in ale, or better yet, by poking someone with his daggers.

"Uncle said you must sleep upstairs," Arletta insisted, her voice losing some of its edge as she tried to assert control.

Thorne stopped just short of the front door, two guards stepping into his path, their arms crossed. He glared at them, and to his surprise—and satisfaction—he realized he was now at the same height as them. His glare, once easily dismissed, now carried a weight that wasn't there before. The coiled muscles beneath his skin didn't hurt either.

"Uncle said I should sleep upstairs," Thorne repeated, his voice laced with defiance, "but he didn't say when. I'll be back."

In a moment of reckless abandon, Thorne activated Aether Surge, feeling the familiar rush of power course through his veins, his body humming with energy. He shoved one of the guards with a force that surprised even him. The man stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance as he croaked in surprise. The other guard, quicker to react, drew his sword, the blade gleaming under the dim lights.

Thorne smirked, his hand instinctively finding the daggers strapped to the small of his back. He prayed the guard would attack, giving him the excuse he needed to finally unleash the anger that had been festering inside him. The thought of sinking his blades into flesh, of feeling the rush of battle, was almost intoxicating.

"Don't you dare!" Arletta's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Sheath your sword this instant."

The guard hesitated for a moment before reluctantly lowering his weapon, his eyes still fixed on Thorne. There was a cold fury in Arletta's gaze as she looked at Thorne, but she tempered her voice, making it more measured. "I expect you back before dawn," she said, her tone brokering no argument. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "Use the side door."

Thorne watched as Arletta turned and walked away, her stiff posture radiating disapproval. The guards growled at Thorne, but he barely acknowledged them. He knew that he probably couldn't take them both on—at least not without his magic. But that didn't stop him from smirking as he passed them, provoking them just a little more.

"Who's a good guard dog? Who? You two are!" he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The guard he had shoved took a threatening step toward Thorne, but the other one stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. Thorne couldn't help but chuckle as he reached the door, hollering back to them, "Don't piss on the walls; Uncle will be furious!"

As Thorne stepped into the cool night air, a wave of satisfaction washed over him. It felt good to make someone else as angry as he was, to let out some of the venom that had been building up. But as he walked down the dark, familiar streets, his anger began to sharpen again, his hands instinctively finding their way to his daggers. The streets were quiet, the silence punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city winding down for the night.

He could feel someone following him, the soft footsteps barely audible over the rustle of the wind. He knew they were tracking him, likely on orders from the guild or Uncle. It didn't matter. It was just another reminder that he was a leashed dog, just like the guards he had taunted. No matter where he went, someone would always be watching.

The smell of the sea and the nearby fish market reached his nose, the briny scent mingling with the faint aroma of stale fish. It was a smell that had always signaled home to him, grounding him in a way nothing else could. His heart raced with anticipation as he quickened his pace, nearly running through the empty marketplace, weaving between crates, closed stalls, and the occasional stray cat nibbling on discarded scraps. He was almost there—almost back with his friends.

The sounds of the tavern filtered through the deserted street, a drunken man stumbling out the door, whistling a jaunty tune. Thorne couldn't help but smile. This was where he belonged, not in Uncle's suffocating manor, but here, in the heart of the city, with the people who mattered most to him.

He burst through the tavern doors, the warmth and noise of the crowded room enveloping him like a familiar embrace. His eyes scanned the room desperately, searching for the faces he had missed for so long. And then he found them, tucked away in their usual corner, just as he remembered.

Jonah was hunched over the table, three different parchments spread out in front of him, taking up more than half the space. He had used Darius' empty goblets to weigh down the corners of the papers, while Darius himself leaned back in his chair, a drink in hand as he chatted with a man at the next table. Ben was wedged between them, tearing into a drumstick with grease trailing down his chin, a small book propped open on his lap.

His friends. The sight of them sent a wave of relief crashing over him. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed them until this moment.

The first person to spot him was Gilly, her voice cutting through the noise of the tavern as she exclaimed, "Thorne? Is that you?"

Thorne turned to her, a grin spreading across his face. Gilly was holding a tray full of drinks, but that didn't stop her from setting it down and rushing over to hug him. She smacked him affectionately on the arm, her eyes shining with relief and something else—something like worry.

"Where the hell have you been?" Gilly demanded, pulling back to look him up and down as if checking for injuries. "I was worried sick!"

Thorne scratched his head awkwardly, not quite meeting her eyes. "My trip was... unplanned," he said, searching for the right words. "I had some business to attend to."

Gilly narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but then her expression softened, and she smiled again. "The only thing that matters is that you're back. Now go to your friends. I'll fetch you some food and drink."

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Thorne nodded, feeling a warmth he hadn't felt in months. He turned back to his friends, his heart lifting, but then he noticed Darius staring at him, his expression inscrutable. There was something in Darius' gaze—something Thorne couldn't quite place. It wasn't just the usual mix of curiosity and mischief; there was something deeper, something that made Thorne's smile falter for just a moment.

He forced the grin back onto his face and made his way over to the table, slipping into the seat across from Jonah. "Miss me?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light, though the weight of Darius' gaze still lingered in his mind.

Jonah gave him a measured look, his usual warmth replaced with a guarded expression. "You could say that," he replied, his tone neutral. The easy camaraderie that had once defined their friendship was absent, replaced by an uneasy tension that gnawed at Thorne's gut.

Darius leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Thorne. "You were gone for months, Thorne. What happened? Sid only told us that you had to travel for a task for Uncle, but that's all we got. Why didn't you tell us anything?"

Thorne suppressed a sigh, forcing himself to remain calm. He had anticipated questions, but Darius' probing gaze made him uneasy. "It was all very sudden," Thorne began, choosing his words carefully. "Uncle sent me away on a task that... took longer than expected. It was dangerous, and I didn't want to involve you all."

Darius' eyes remained fixed on Thorne, his suspicion clear. "Dangerous? What exactly were you doing that was so dangerous you couldn't even send a message? We thought you were dead, Thorne. We didn't know if you were coming back."

Thorne swallowed hard, feeling a flicker of discomfort. Lying to his friends felt too easy, almost disturbingly so. His Acting skill had been honed to perfection, and his Echoes of Truth skill made his words sound even more convincing. But that didn't make the lies sit any better in his stomach.

"I'm sorry," Thorne said, letting a note of regret slip into his voice. "I really am. But I couldn't contact you. It was too risky. Uncle was very clear about the secrecy of the mission. I didn't have a choice."

Darius wasn't satisfied. "What was so secretive about it? What could possibly be so important that you couldn't even tell us you were leaving?"

Thorne hesitated, his mind racing to come up with a plausible story. "I had to travel to some remote areas," he said finally. "Places where there were no safe lines of communication. And I had to stay undercover. If I'd contacted you, it could have jeopardized the whole mission. Uncle would have... well, you know how he is."

Gilly arrived at that moment, setting down a tray of drinks and a plate of food in front of Thorne. She gave him a searching look, her worry still evident, but she said nothing as she busied herself with distributing the drinks. Thorne took a moment to steady himself, grateful for the brief reprieve.

"You were undercover?" Darius pressed, still not letting up. "What were you doing, Thorne? We've never heard of Uncle sending you on a mission like that before."

Thorne forced a smile, trying to project confidence. "I've been training for this, Darius. Uncle has... bigger plans for me, and this mission was part of that. I can't say more, but believe me, it was necessary."

Darius' gaze was piercing, his silence stretching uncomfortably. Thorne could feel the weight of his lies, each one stacking on top of the other, creating a fragile tower that could collapse with one wrong word. But even as he lied, he was struck by how easily the words came to him, how natural it felt to weave these deceptions. It disturbed him, the ease with which he was deceiving his closest friends.

"I don't like it," Darius said finally, his tone hard. "You disappearing without a word. You've changed, Thorne."

Thorne flinched inwardly at the accusation but kept his face neutral. "I'm still me," he said quietly. "I haven't forgotten what we've been working towards."

As if to defuse the tension, Jonah leaned in, his tone lighter as he tried to shift the conversation. "We've been making progress while you were gone, you know. We're close to having enough money for the shop."

Thorne looked at Jonah, surprised and relieved by the change in topic. "Really?"

Jonah nodded, a small smile returning to his face. "I've already got my eyes on a place. It's in a good location, too. And I've even managed to make a deal with one of the local fishermen to sell us corals. It'll give us a nice edge over the competition."

Thorne's heart lifted at the news. "That's great, Jonah. I knew you'd pull through."

Ben, who had been quietly nibbling on Thorne's food, perked up and started signing excitedly. The tension that had been building seemed to dissipate as Ben's enthusiasm infected the group.

"Ben says he's finally learnt some useful skills," Darius said, without needing Jonah to translate. "Skills that'll help him become an alchemist."

Thorne's eyes widened in genuine surprise, a smile breaking through the lingering unease. "That's incredible, Ben! I knew you had it in you."

Ben's face lit up with a wide grin, and he continued signing with rapid gestures. Jonah chuckled as he watched, then added, "Ben's managed to create several potions already. We've been selling them to make money for the shop. Now we just need consistency and larger batches."

Ben scowled, signing furiously. Everyone at the table laughed, understanding his complaint.

"He's mad because we haven't been able to buy him large quantities of ingredients yet," Jonah explained, still smiling.

Darius, who had been quiet for most of the exchange, couldn't help but chuckle at Ben's frustration. Thorne turned to him, the tension between them still lingering, but softened by the shared moment. "And you, Darius? How have things been for you?"

Darius shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Quiet, mostly. The only notable thing was searching for you."

Thorne's heart sank at the words. He knew how much Rafe's sudden departure had hurt Darius, how betrayed he had felt when Rafe had abandoned them. The idea that Darius might think Thorne had done the same was almost too much to bear. The thought of Rafe stirred a deep anger within Thorne, but his Mask of Deceit kept it hidden, his face a calm façade.

Ben caught Thorne's attention, signing slowly this time, his expression serious. "Are you back for good?"

Thorne hesitated, feeling the weight of their expectations. He wanted to tell them yes, that he was back for good, that things could return to the way they were. But he couldn't lie about this, not entirely. "I'm... I'm not sure," he said, the words heavy. "I have to leave again tomorrow night. But I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise."

A heavy silence fell over the table, the joy of their reunion dissipating as reality set in. They had hoped that Thorne's return would mean things could go back to normal, but his words shattered that hope.

The silence stretched on, thick and oppressive, until Darius suddenly slammed his hand on the table, causing the dishes to rattle. Everyone jumped, startled by the sudden noise.

"Well," Darius said, his voice firm and determined. "We'll just have to make the best of it. Tomorrow will be all about Thorne."

Thorne looked up, surprised by the sudden change in Darius' demeanor.

Darius grinned, the first genuine smile Thorne had seen from him all night. "I'll get a day off from the guard, and we'll go to the fish market, then find a good tavern to eat, and afterward..." He paused for dramatic effect, glancing at Ben with a mischievous glint in his eye. "We'll go swimming."

Ben's eyes widened in horror, his hands immediately signing frantic protests, but everyone at the table understood him without needing Jonah to translate.

"He says there's no way he's getting in the water," Jonah interpreted through his laughter. "You know Ben hates getting wet."

Darius crossed his arms with a smug expression. "Come on, Ben. You see all those people swimming around. They look like they're having fun. Why not us?"

Ben continued to sign furiously, his protests growing more exaggerated, but the rest of the table erupted in laughter. Thorne couldn't help but join in, the tension easing as the laughter washed over them.

For a brief moment, everything felt right again. The guilt, the anger, the lies—they all seemed to fade away in the warmth of his friends' company. Tomorrow might bring more lies he'd have to weave, but for tonight, he could enjoy the moment. He was back with his friends, and for now, that was enough.

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