My Grim Reaper Class: I can kill anything.

Chapter 75: Where My Home Is

The descent into the valley took two full days.

They spent one night at an intermediate post the escorts had indicated—a small elven structure for diplomatic travelers with simple lodging and basic provisions. Nathan ate elven food for the first time. Bread made from a flour he didn’t recognize with a toasted nut flavor. A broth with specific herbs Liaraen identified as native to the central region. A small purple fruit that tasted like orange and honey simultaneously.

Nathan processed it with the neutral calm he’d maintained throughout the crossing.

And with the efficiency of someone who’d decided not to comment yet on the magnitude of the cultural differences he was absorbing, he simply accepted each new experience.

On the second day, after midday, they reached the central valley proper.

The paths between the valley’s trees were considerably more orderly than the trails they’d arrived on. Paved with precisely cut flat stones. With small magical lanterns regularly distributed. With ceremonial inscriptions on the main trees at each intersection.

The valley’s elves observed the cart as it passed.

Not openly. Just with the discreet glances of residents of a stable community who register visitors’ arrivals without public comment. Apparently the passage of two escorts with ceremonial spears at the front and rear of the cart indicated to observers that the arrival was formal and that informal questions weren’t appropriate.

Nathan internally appreciated the discretion.

And around mid-afternoon, the cart reached the valley’s heart.

At the foot of the colossal tree.

And Nathan could appreciate for the first time, up close, the structure of House Sael’thoryn.

---

*Day 40.*

The tree was, even up close, difficult to comprehend in scale.

Approximately sixty meters in diameter at the base trunk. Approximately ninety meters of visible height. The main branches extended outward with the architectural efficiency of a structure that had been cultivated for generations with specific purposes. The leaves were a deep green with silver veins that reflected the afternoon light in shifting patterns.

And along the trunk, incorporated into the living bark, entire rooms were distributed across different levels. Circular windows with frames carved from the tree’s own wood. Balconies extending from the major branches. Walkways of living wood connecting different points of the tree and also extending to neighboring trees, forming an architectural network Nathan had considered impossible until the exact moment he saw it.

Around the tree, on the valley floor, there was an esplanade.

Small. Formal. With a stone path leading to the tree’s base, where a spiral staircase carved into the wood began climbing toward the inhabited floors.

And on the esplanade, waiting for the cart’s arrival, were people.

Nathan stopped the cart.

He looked.

And with Liaraen sitting beside him, her aristocratic posture maintained at maximum effort, he processed the scene.

Approximately twenty people.

None were close relatives of Liaraen that Nathan could identify.

Those at the front were clearly domestic and administrative staff. Formal clothing but not high-ranking. Professional service posture. And with the specific expression of people who had received orders to be present at the arrival but apparently didn’t know precisely what was expected of them.

None of House Sael’thoryn.

Nathan noticed—he’d expected, at least, to see Liaraen’s father waiting on the esplanade.

He turned to Liaraen.

She’d noticed too.

Her aristocratic posture adjusted slightly. Her pale green eyes scanned the group on the esplanade twice. Apparently confirming that she also didn’t recognize anyone from the immediate family.

"Nathan."

"Yes?"

"My father isn’t here."

"Really?"

"Nor my sister."

"Maybe he’s away."

"Nor my principal uncle."

"Well, he’s your uncle—maybe he has his own affairs."

Silence.

Then Liaraen spoke again, with the calm voice she’d developed over recent weeks.

"Apparently there’s a reason."

"Apparently yes."

"I’m going to find out."

"Acceptable."

Nathan drove the cart the final meters.

He stopped at the foot of the tree’s spiral staircase.

One of the elven escorts dismounted, approached the cart, and helped Liaraen down with the ceremonial formality that apparently corresponded to her rank.

Nathan climbed down himself.

He approached the group with Liaraen at his side.

And one of the people at the front—an older elf in head administrator’s clothing—stepped forward two paces and bowed formally.

"Lady Sael’thoryn."

"Ferren."

"Welcome home."

"Ferren. Where is my father?"

Ferren went very still.

His professional posture held, but something in his face changed. And that change, Nathan recognized clearly.

*Ah.*

*Here.*

*It’s started.*

"My lady," Ferren said, his voice carefully controlled. "It would be appropriate for you to first go to the main office. We will have the full conversation there."

Liaraen looked at him.

Her aristocratic posture held. But Nathan saw the small trembling in her hands again.

"Ferren."

"Yes, my lady?"

"Where is my father?"

Ferren didn’t respond immediately.

He looked at the ground for half a second.

Then he looked up.

"My lady. It’s been fourteen months since your disappearance."

Nathan felt Liaraen tense.

Physically.

Beside him.

"Fourteen months?" Liaraen repeated, her voice very small.

"Yes, my lady."

"I was away approximately thirty days."

"My lady. Apparently your perception of time is mistaken. Apparently you were away for over a year before they pulled you out in Greywall."

Liaraen went very still.

Nathan went very still beside her.

Ferren continued, his voice even lower.

"Your father and mother searched for you throughout that entire time. They traveled territories. Sent emissaries. Contacted information networks outside Aelthoren. Apparently they came close to finding you in the ninth month of the search."

"But where are they?"

"They were intercepted during a diplomatic journey to the kingdom of Karvath. Apparently by the same organization that orchestrated the original kidnapping. Neither of them returned."

Liaraen went very still.

Nathan placed a hand on her shoulder.

Ferren continued, his voice now breaking slightly.

"Your sister Aelinne assumed the house’s responsibility after the loss. She continued the search for the following three months. And approximately two months ago, she disappeared as well. Without explanation. Without note. Without a body found."

Liaraen said nothing.

"The house was left without a primary heir," Ferren continued. "The structures you saw when you entered the valley are those of the original house. But the family mansion, at the valley’s center, fell into abandonment. The minor houses’ tribunal approved a temporary transition to an administrative regime until a legitimate heir could claim the right."

Nathan felt Liaraen begin to tremble.

Still standing. Still with her aristocratic posture. But trembling from within with a force that fifteen minutes earlier wouldn’t have even been conceivable.

Ferren continued, his voice now completely broken.

"The family mansion is in ruins now, my lady. The organic structure wasn’t maintained. The central tree has survived, but the rooms collapsed approximately six weeks ago from lack of care. Your uncles, House Vaelith, are traveling from the west. They’ll arrive in approximately two hours. They’ll be able to give you more details."

Liaraen didn’t speak.

Still standing.

Still with her posture.

Still with Nathan beside her.

But apparently she’d stopped listening to Ferren around the time he’d mentioned the words "family mansion in ruins."

Nathan looked at Ferren.

With the controlled calm of someone who’d received several blows of information in approximately thirty seconds and was processing it in real time.

"Ferren."

"Yes?"

"Lady Sael’thoryn needs a moment."

"Understood."

"We’re going to walk to the family mansion. She needs to see it. Privately. With only me accompanying her."

"Sir. The mansion is in ruins. It’s not appropriate for—"

"Ferren. The family mansion. She needs to see it. Now. We’re going. And you’re going to wait here until her uncles arrive."

Ferren looked at him for a moment.

Then inclined his head.

"Very well."

Nathan gently took Liaraen’s arm.

She responded to the contact slowly.

She began walking beside him, saying nothing, her pale green eyes fixed on the middle distance.

Nathan led her to the path Ferren indicated with a gesture.

And he began walking with Liaraen Sael’thoryn toward what remained of the home where she’d grown up—the home she’d been imagining returning to during every single hour of the box.

And that apparently no longer existed.