"What kind of relic?"
"The All-Knowing Eyes."
I stared at him for a moment before letting out a small laugh.
"That sounds a little too grand."
Roland shrugged.
"It is grand. At least based on the rumors we’ve heard."
"And what exactly are these eyes supposed to do?"
"The stories vary depending on who you ask, but the general idea is always the same. The relic allows its owner to focus on a target and receive information about it. Sometimes it’s a location. Sometimes it’s a person. Sometimes it’s an event. Nobody knows the exact limits."
I frowned.
"That still isn’t enough to convince me those eyes are responsible. If they were really that powerful, locating a remote settlement shouldn’t have been difficult for that Eternal."
"Maybe."
Roland leaned back in his chair.
"Or maybe the relic has restrictions we don’t know about. Ancient relics rarely work as cleanly as the stories suggest."
My father nodded thoughtfully.
"It is possible."
"I don’t know," I said. "The explanation still feels incomplete."
"It probably is," Roland admitted. "But after everything we’ve seen, I can’t shake the feeling that those eyes are involved somehow."
I considered his words for a few moments. The theory wasn’t impossible.
In fact, it fit a little too well.
A relic capable of obtaining information would explain how secrets that should have remained hidden somehow found their way into Eternal hands.
Still, speculation wasn’t evidence.
"Alright," I said eventually. "If I run into the Region Four Eternal, I’ll ask him directly."
My father raised an eyebrow.
"Ask?"
"Politely at first."
"And if he refuses?"
I smiled.
"Then after a reasonable amount of punching, I’m sure he’ll become much more cooperative."
Roland barked out a laugh.
"Now that sounds like an Ironhart solution."
I stood and stretched.
The conversation had gone on longer than I realized.
Workers were already moving through the final stages of construction. The damaged sections of the outpost had largely been repaired, and the atmosphere had shifted from emergency response to preparation.
"Anyway," I said, glancing toward the activity outside. "I think the construction is almost finished. We should probably get ready to move."
That immediately brought everyone back to reality.
My mother rose first.
"You’re right."
She stepped forward and squeezed my hand gently.
"We’ll go check on the progress and make sure everything is ready."
My father followed her.
"We won’t be long."
A moment later both of them disappeared in flashes of movement, heading toward the construction teams.
The area suddenly felt much quieter.
The old man glanced sideways at me.
"So?"
I looked at him.
"So what?"
"Meeting your parents."
His expression softened slightly.
"Did it go the way you imagined it would?"
I followed his gaze toward the distant figures of my mother and father. For years I had wondered what this moment would be like.
There had been times when I feared it would never happen at all. I had imagined hundreds of different reunions over the years.
None of them had come close to reality.
A small smile appeared on my face.
I nodded.
"Yeah. Actually, it was better than I imagined."
For a moment, the old man simply looked at me.
Then he smiled as well and turned his gaze back toward the busy outpost.
"Good to hear that."
There was a surprising amount of satisfaction in that single word.
"Did your grandmother ever talk about me?" The question caught me off guard.
For a moment I searched my memories, expecting an answer to come immediately. My grandmother had spoken about my parents countless times while I was growing up.
She had told me stories about their childhoods, their academy years, the trouble they caused, the friends they made, and the ridiculous arguments they used to have with each other. Through those stories I had learned enough about them to feel as though I had known them long before we met again.
Yet when I tried to remember a single story involving Roland, I came up empty.
The realization must have shown on my face because Roland let out a long sigh before I could answer.
"I see."
The old man leaned back in his chair and stared toward the distant mountains beyond the dome.
"So she’s still angry."
There was no bitterness in his voice. If anything, there was only resignation.
"Actually..." I hesitated. "Now that I think about it, she never mentioned you at all."
Roland laughed quietly.
"That sounds like her."
My curiosity immediately flared.
"What happened?"
"Let’s just say your grandmother and I disagreed on what was important."
I raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds suspiciously vague."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"It sounds vague because I’m trying to make myself look better."
That immediately got my attention.
"So what actually happened?"
The old man rubbed his chin before finally answering.
"You know how your father is willing to charge directly into danger if he thinks it’s the right thing to do?"
I nodded.
"Well, unfortunately he inherited that from me."
The smile quickly faded.
"Back when we were still alive, there was a mission."
His gaze grew distant.
"A bad one."
Even without further explanation, I could tell he wasn’t talking about an ordinary operation.
"How bad?"
Roland laughed quietly.
"Bad enough that every instinct told us to stay away from it."
His fingers drummed lightly against the arm of his chair.
"And she begged me not to go. She knew I was one of the strongest people available. She knew exactly why I wanted to go. She even understood why the mission mattered."
His voice softened.
"But for the first time in our lives, she asked me to choose our family instead."
"You went anyway."
He nodded.
"I went anyway."
There was no attempt to justify it. Just a simple admission.
"And the mission failed?"
Roland laughed.
The sound carried no humor.
"Spectacularly."
The old man continued.
"By the end there weren’t many of us left."
His eyes remained fixed on the horizon.
"We accomplished part of what we set out to do, but not enough."
"And that was where you died?"
Roland nodded.
"That was where I died."
Something about his tone made me ask the next question.
"Grandma was there, wasn’t she?"
The old man’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. It was answer enough.
After several seconds he nodded again.
"She arrived before the end."
The words came quietly.
"I still remember it. I was already dying. There wasn’t anything anyone could do."
He swallowed.
"And your grandmother..."
A faint smile appeared.
"She was furious."
I could almost picture it.
"What did she say?"
Roland shook his head.
"The better question is what she wanted me to say. She wanted me to admit she had been right."
Understanding slowly dawned on me.
"And you didn’t."
Roland groaned.
"No."
I stared at him.
"So what did you say?"
Roland remained silent for several moments. Long enough that I already knew the answer wouldn’t help his case.
Finally he sighed.
"I told her I had failed the mission."
I stared at him.
"That was it?"
"That was it."
Suddenly I understood everything. I understood why my grandmother never talked about him. And most importantly, I understood why she was still angry.
Roland let out a long sigh.
"In retrospect, it may not have been my finest moment."
I stared at him for a few seconds.
"Yeah."
The old man winced.
"You’re taking her side too?"
"Grandfather."
"What?"
"I think literally everyone is taking her side."