Chapter 95 — Return to Millbrook
They departed Greyhaven on the morning of the third day, the combined party considerably larger than anything Arlen had traveled with before — the five capital adventurers, Maren, Garrick himself accompanying the expedition for its first, most critical stage, and a dozen additional Greyhaven volunteers including Halvard, Doran’s full Iron Vanguard party, and several others Arlen knew only by reputation.
"Strange, seeing this many people mobilized for one destination," Arlen said, walking alongside Halvard near the column’s middle.
"Strange circumstances," Halvard replied. "Garrick doesn’t commit this much of the guild’s strength lightly."
The road toward Millbrook carried a grim familiarity for Arlen, retracing terrain he hadn’t properly walked since the night everything had gone wrong over a year earlier — the same stretch of forest, the same gradual shift from ordinary woodland into ground that still, even now, carried an unsettled quality no amount of time had fully erased.
"You’ve been quiet," Doran observed, falling into step beside him on their second day of travel. "Understandable, given where we’re headed."
"I keep thinking about that night," Arlen admitted. "Ilvera, the creature, everything that happened after. Strange, being the one who actually knows this ground, out of everyone here."
"That’s not a small thing," Doran said. "Most of us are walking in blind, trusting Corrin’s reports and Garrick’s judgment. You’ve actually lived it. That matters."
Corrin’s detachment met them at a forward camp established a day’s travel short of the original site, and Arlen found himself surprised by how much the outpost had grown since his last understanding of it — proper structures now, a small but permanent presence maintained continuously for over a year.
"Readings have stayed consistent these past weeks," Corrin reported, a lean, weathered man Arlen hadn’t properly met before despite months of secondhand awareness of his work. "No dramatic shifts, nothing suggesting the site’s grown more dangerous than our last full assessment. Should make Sister Ashwood’s approach considerably more predictable than it might otherwise be."
"Small mercies," Maren said, studying the outpost’s careful monitoring equipment with evident professional interest, her pale gold robes catching the late afternoon light in a way that made her presence, even in stillness, difficult to overlook.
They made camp that evening within sight of the original clearing, and Arlen found himself, preparing the evening meal with the same careful attention he brought to every expedition now, aware of an old, familiar tension settling over the gathered party.
"You knew the woman who was hurt here," Maren said, settling near the fire once most of the camp had turned toward their own preparations. "Ilvera, according to your report."
"She survived," Arlen said. "Recovered fully, actually. Still adventuring, last I knew."
"Good." Maren studied the darkening tree line beyond their camp. "I find it helps, going into work like this, to remember that not every story from a site like this ends badly. Keeps the weight of it manageable."
"Do you do this often?" Arlen asked. "Sites like this, I mean."
"More than I’d prefer." Something distant entered her expression. "The world holds more of these than most people realize. Old wounds, sealed imperfectly, waiting for something to finally disturb them properly. The Radiant Dawn trains specifically for what ordinary combat can’t address."
"Is it always this dangerous?"
"Danger varies. The fundamental work rarely does." Maren’s gaze shifted to him, something quietly assessing in her attention. "You’ll see tomorrow, if all goes according to plan. I find explanation only carries a person so far toward genuinely understanding what this work actually involves."
Ilyana called the full expedition together once dinner concluded, laying out the following day’s approach with the same careful, methodical precision she’d shown since her arrival in Greyhaven.
"Perimeter formation," she said, indicating positions on a rough sketch of the clearing Corrin’s team had provided. "Iron Vanguard and my own team take the primary defensive positions, closest to Sister Ashwood’s working radius. Remaining volunteers hold a secondary perimeter, ready to reinforce wherever the primary line needs support."
"What should we expect?" Doran asked.
"Uncertain, precisely," Ilyana admitted. "Sister Ashwood’s assessment suggests the site may produce guardian manifestations similar to the original creature, though likely smaller given the site’s already-weakened state after a year of continuous, if imperfect, containment. Could be nothing. Could be considerably more than that. We prepare for the worst regardless."
Arlen found himself assigned to the secondary perimeter alongside Halvard, a position he understood immediately as appropriately cautious given the primary combat responsibility resting with Ilyana’s team and Iron Vanguard’s proven veterans.
"You wanted a more active role," Halvard observed, noting something in Arlen’s expression as the briefing concluded.
"Not really," Arlen said, surprising himself with the honesty of it. "I think I’ve learned, this past year, exactly what it costs to overextend past what a situation actually calls for. If secondary perimeter is what makes sense, that’s what I’ll hold."
"Good instinct," Halvard said. "Wish more adventurers your age understood that as clearly as you seem to."
Garrick found Arlen later that evening, settling beside him near the fire’s edge with the same unhurried, deliberate ease he brought to everything.
"Strange, being back here?" he asked.
"Strange doesn’t quite cover it," Arlen admitted. "I keep thinking about that night. How little I understood, going in. How much has changed since."
"That’s the shape of growth, usually," Garrick said. "Looking back at a moment that once felt impossible to survive, and understanding, clearly, exactly how much further you’ve come since." He studied the darkened tree line a long moment. "I won’t pretend tomorrow’s without genuine risk. But you’re not the same adventurer who walked into that clearing a year ago. Neither is this expedition remotely comparable to what responded that first, desperate night."
"I know," Arlen said. "I think that’s part of why I volunteered. Not just to help. To finally close this properly, on my own terms, rather than simply surviving whatever it decided to throw at me."
Garrick nodded, something quietly approving in his weathered expression. "Rest well tonight. Tomorrow asks a great deal of everyone, Sister Ashwood most of all. Best to face it properly prepared."
Arlen wrote briefly in his journal before finally allowing himself sleep, the entry carrying a settled, reflective weight distinct from his usual careful documentation.
Back at Millbrook. The clearing’s visible from our camp, quiet now in a way it certainly wasn’t the last time I stood this close to it. Tomorrow, Sister Ashwood attempts the purification properly, with the full expedition standing ready to defend whatever the process disturbs.
I keep thinking about Ilvera, about the creature’s strange, unexplained mercy that night, about everything Vessa warned might still linger even after the physical threat was destroyed. Tomorrow, we finally learn whether that lingering weight can actually be lifted.
I don’t know what to expect. I only know I intend to hold my position, trust the people around me, and finally, properly close a Chapter of this life that’s remained open considerably longer than I ever expected it to.
He closed the journal, the camp settling into its watchful, uneasy quiet around him, and found sleep slower to arrive than usual, his mind turning over every careful memory of that terrible night, now finally, genuinely close to reaching its true, complete resolution.