Home Bound

The generals' war was over.

Not in headlines or in treaties, but in the way the air finally felt still. No alarms. No coded messages. No red zones blinking across a tactical map. The battles were won. The enemy forces broken. Peace was official.

But the ones who had fought from the shadows—Phantom Veil—were the first to fade.

Calla Virell stood alone in the command room, eyes scanning the last transmission blinking on the screen. A single line of text had come through just before all systems powered down:

"Peace confirmed. Orders terminated. You are released."

The words didn’t feel real.

Behind her, Garran stepped in, expression unreadable.

"It’s done," he said. "The ceasefire held. Was signed. The generals will stand down."

Calla didn’t move. "That doesn’t mean we’re safe."

"No," he agreed. "But it means we go home."

She looked at him, then down at the message flashing on her wrist comm.

Mom: Come home, sweetheart. Please. We miss you.

Dad: We’re waiting. It's time.

A long breath slipped from her chest.

"I don’t know if I can," she said.

Jace entered next, smudged with oil and dust. He slung a duffel over one shoulder. "You faced down a dozen kill zones and took down a double agent without backup. But home scares you?"

"They don’t know who I became."

"Then show them. Or just be their daughter again for a while. You earned that much."

Calla let the silence stretch. Finally, she nodded.

"Okay," she whispered. "Let's go home."

The team disbanded without ceremony. No medals. No salutes. Just quiet exits, one by one.

Nova boarded a train headed for the mountain pass, where her brother waited with a beat-up truck and a silent grin.

"You still fight dirty?" he asked.

She threw her duffel in the back and smirked. "Always."

They didn’t speak much after that. But they didn’t have to.

Rhea took a slow boat ride back to the coast, where the wind smelled like salt and memory. Her family’s cottage was small, weather-beaten, and entirely unchanged. Her younger sister stood barefoot in the garden, frozen at the sight of her.

"You’re really home," she whispered.

Rhea nodded. "This time, I’m staying."

She didn’t know if that was true. But it felt right to say.

Mira returned to the city, climbing the old fire escape to a tiny apartment window—where a child’s face lit up like a sunrise.

"Kaia," Mira breathed.

The door burst open before she could knock. Her little sister threw herself into her arms, legs clinging tight, head buried in Mira’s shoulder.

"You’re back! You’re really back! Did you bring me stories?"

"So many," Mira said softly, blinking fast.

Tess wandered back through the ruins of her childhood streets, hands in her coat pockets. Her old neighbothadn’t changed much—still cracked pavement, neon signs, the smell of fried oil ,and rust.

She passed the bookstore without thinking. A voice called her name.

"Tess?"

She turned.

Her mother stood in the doorway, a poetry book in one hand, her face pale with shock.

Tess grinned. "Hey, Ma. Still making people cry with words?"

Her mother dropped the book and ran to her. No words, just arms and tears.

"I thought you were dead."

"Not yet," Tess whispered. "But I missed you."

And Calla—she boarded a quiet shuttle with Garran and Jace. The ride was silent, but her mind wasn’t.

Every sound made her flinch. Every station made her check escape routes. Every face in the crowd looked like a threat.

She stepped onto the platform slowly. Her mother waited with trembling hands, her father a step behind with tears already in his eyes.

They didn’t rush her.