My thoughts were interrupted when Jess returned carrying a tray large enough to make me wonder if she had mistaken dinner for a festival.
She crossed the room with effortless ease and set it down before disappearing back into the kitchen. A moment later she returned carrying another tray. Then another. Then a fourth. By the time she finally seemed satisfied, nearly every available space on the table had vanished beneath an impressive assortment of food.
I stared at the table for several seconds before looking up at Jess.
"There is no way I can eat all of this."
Jess paused in the middle of arranging a plate and gave me a look that suggested I had just said something deeply unreasonable.
"Of course this isn’t just for you."
Across the table, Arlen chuckled quietly into his drink.
"Save yourself the effort," he said. "Questions like that never lead anywhere productive."
Jess ignored both of us completely. A moment later food began appearing on my plate with alarming speed. I opened my mouth to protest.
She pointed at the plate. The protest died before it ever reached my lips.
Arlen’s smile widened.
"You’re giving up already?"
I glanced between them. "You surrendered faster than I did."
"That’s because I’ve known her for centuries."
"And that helps?"
"It teaches you which battles aren’t worth fighting."
The answer carried the calm certainty of a man speaking from long experience. I was still wondering exactly how many times Jess had forced him into surrender when the front door opened once more.
The conversation around the table slowed as another woman stepped inside.
She wasn’t particularly old by the null realm standards, though there was a confidence about her that spoke of centuries rather than decades. Dark hair fell loosely over one shoulder, and her expression carried the faint amusement of someone who had already heard the entire story before arriving.
The moment she spotted me, her pace slowed. For a second she simply stood there.
"So it’s true."
There was genuine surprise in her voice.
Jess laughed.
"That’s exactly what Dean said."
"Dean exaggerates everything."
"He actually understated this one."
The woman ignored her. Her attention remained fixed on me.
"You really are alive."
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
Something complicated crossed her face for a moment before she shook her head and laughed softly.
"Unbelievable."
Arlen gestured toward an empty chair.
"Sit down before you start staring. You’re making the boy nervous."
"He is a saint not a boy."
The woman rolled her eyes but finally joined us at the table.
"Mira," Arlen said. "Billion, she is Mira, your distant cousin. Also the family healer or medical professional or the researcher into weird biological stuff."
"Distant?" Mira repeated. "We’ve reached the point where everyone’s a distant cousin."
"Fair."
She leaned back in her chair, still studying me with open curiosity.
"I leave for three weeks and somehow the family discovers a lost Saint."
"Technically he discovered us," Jess said.
"That doesn’t make it sound any less ridiculous and I thought there was no new living descendant left."
"We all thought so."
All three of them looked at each other with narrowed eyes. I made no comment.
For a few moments the conversation drifted toward the increasingly absurd chain of events that had led to my arrival. Mira listened with growing disbelief, occasionally interrupting to ask questions whenever she encountered a detail that sounded too unreasonable to be true.
By the time Arlen finished explaining how Dean had nearly started a district-wide celebration, Mira had buried her face in one hand.
"I was gone for three weeks."
"Terrible timing," Jess agreed.
"The worst timing."
Jess placed a plate in front of her.
Mira gave a thankful nod and started eating.
The conversation had only just settled back into its comfortable rhythm when the front door opened again.
This time two people entered together.
The first was an elderly man with silver hair tied loosely behind his head. A weathered spear rested across his shoulder, and despite appearing old enough to have witnessed half the district’s history personally, he moved with the easy grace of a veteran soldier.
The second arrival looked considerably younger, though appearances meant very little among souls. He carried a stack of books under one arm and wore the perpetually exhausted expression of someone forced to spend his life cleaning up after stronger and considerably less intelligent people.
The moment Arlen saw them, he groaned.
"Oh no."
The older man immediately pointed at him.
"See? This is how he greets old friends."
"Old friends don’t usually arrive with trouble."
"That’s hurtful."
"It’s also accurate."
The younger man nodded.
"Very accurate."
The older man looked offended.
"You too?"
"I’ve known you for two hundred years."
"Exactly. You should be on my side."
"I’ve had years to gather evidence."
Several people around the table laughed.
The old man muttered something about betrayal before finally noticing me. The easy smile slipped from his face. Just enough for genuine surprise to show through.
For several seconds he remained silent. Then he let out a long whistle.
"Well."
The man slowly approached.
Unlike the others, he didn’t seem interested in testing me, questioning me, or verifying my identity.
He simply looked pleased.
Immensely pleased.
"So you’re the boy."
I couldn’t help smiling.
"And you’re?"
The old man barked out a laugh.
"Fair question."
He dropped into the empty chair beside Arlen and extended a hand.
"Garth."
Before I could respond, Arlen snorted.
"Don’t let him sound important. He’s Roland’s oldest friend."
"Oldest surviving friend," Garth corrected proudly.
"That isn’t the achievement you think it is."
"It absolutely is."
Garth ignored him and turned back toward me.
"I knew your grandfather before he grew old, ugly, and irresponsible."
Several people immediately started coughing into their drinks.
"Before?" Jess asked.
Garth considered the question.
"You know what? That’s fair. He was born that way."
The table erupted into laughter. Even Arlen failed to suppress a smile.
The younger man chose that moment to set his books down.
"Leon," he introduced himself. "Distant cousin of yours I guess."
I was beginning to suspect everyone in the district was somehow my cousin.
Apparently Leon shared the thought.
"At this point, family trees become more of a suggestion than an actual structure."
Garth waved dismissively.
"Details do not matter. The important thing is that you’re here."
For the first time since arriving, his expression softened. There was no curiosity in it.
Only quiet satisfaction.
"I won’t pretend I knew your parents well," he said. "But your grandfather spent years searching for news of his descendants."
The laughter around the table faded.
"He never stopped. Of course, if Roland hears me saying nice things about him, he’ll become unbearable for the next century."
The emotional atmosphere shattered instantly.