The hospital room was quieter than usual. Machines still hummed softly in the background, and the sterile scent of disinfectant lingered in the air, but the bustle of nurses and the distant calls over the PA had faded into a muffled background haze. Outside the window, the early morning sunlight slanted across the buildings, casting long golden streaks on the polished linoleum floor.

  Lily sat on the edge of Bell’s hospital bed, her fingers lightly wrapped around her mother’s frail hand. James stood nearby, his arms crossed, holding a thermos of lukewarm coffee he’d forgotten he was drinking.

  When the doctor came in, they both straightened instinctively. He was younger than most, with kind eyes behind square glasses, a clipboard clutched to his chest.

  “I’ve just finished reviewing Bell’s charts,” he said gently, voice low and even. “She’s stable enough to go home, earlier than we expected.”

  Lily blinked. “Home? Already?”

  “If that’s what you and your family still want to do?” he asked. “We’ve arranged for palliative care support and pain management. It’ll all be set up for you.”

  James stepped forward. “But she’s not—”

  “No,” the doctor said, answering the question they hadn’t quite asked. “The prognosis hasn’t changed. This is about comfort now. About giving her peace.”

  Bell stirred slightly, a faint smile touching her lips. She’d been listening, even if her eyes hadn’t opened.

  “Home sounds nice,” she whispered. Her voice was thin, barely there, but certain.

  Lily nodded, fighting the tightness in her throat. “Okay. Let’s get you home, Mum.”

  The drive out of the city was quiet. The sky had turned a bright blue, with not a cloud in sight. Bell lay reclined in the back seat, nestled in pillows and wrapped in one of her old crocheted blankets—faded green and yellow squares worn soft with years of use.

  James drove, both hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. Lily sat beside her mum, watching the trees blur past the window, her fingers occasionally reaching out to adjust Bell’s blanket or brush a stray hair from her face.

  Every now and then, Bell would murmur something, her words half-formed, wandering through memories only she could see. Sometimes it was about the farm. Sometimes it was about Zane. Once, she smiled and whispered, “The Christmas bush is blooming early this year.”

  Neither Lily nor James said much. They didn’t need to.

  They thought they were bringing her home to die. To let her slip away in the place she’d loved most—her own bed, under familiar skies, with the scent of eucalyptus and fresh grass outside the window.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  But fate had something different in mind.

  And just over the hills, through the thinning trees and winding gravel road, the house waited, along with a system neither of them could see coming.

  The early morning sun filtered through a smoky grey sky, casting a dusty warmth over the bush. Dew clung to the grass, and the scent of eucalyptus hung heavy in the still air. Zane stood barefoot on the front steps, a steaming mug of instant coffee in his hands and a frown settled deep into his brow.

  “That was the best cold shower I’ve ever had.” After looking around, he yelled over his shoulder, “We’ve got two days,” though no one had asked.

  Tarni appeared beside him, shirtless, bleary-eyed, and scratching his wet hair. “Plenty of time. You lot just let me near a mop and a leaf blower. We’ll have the place looking bloody respectable.”

  Zane grunted. “Assuming ‘respectable’ means ‘doesn’t look like I bled all over it.’”

  Behind them, Kai kicked open the back door with a garbage bag slung over one shoulder. “I found more broken glass in the hallway. Think one of the goblins smashed the kitchen light during the fight.”

  “We'll say it was a possum,” Tarni said with a shrug. “A very angry, very stabby possum.”

  Zane took a long sip of his coffee. “We’re also moving the Jenny further out. Last thing we need is for Bell to wonder why the house sounds like a lawnmower’s running twenty-four-seven.”

  Kai dumped the garbage bag by the ute. “What about reception? We might miss a call or message from Lily.”

  Zane nodded grimly. “After we clean, we head into town. Check messages, make some calls, see if anyone else has encountered this crazy system.”

  Lily tightened her grip on the steering wheel. James hadn’t known the way, so they’d swapped after the freeway. The road wound like a ribbon through dry paddocks and scrub. James sat quietly in the passenger seat, glancing back now and then at the woman nestled beneath a crocheted blanket in the back seat.

  Bell.

  She looked smaller somehow, diminished. But her eyes were open, bright even, soaking in the passing landscape with the quiet reverence of someone returning to sacred ground.

  “You comfy, Bell?” James asked gently.

  Bell offered a faint smile and, with a wink, said, “You can call me Mum, James. And yes—it’s better than a hospital bed. Even if the roads are bumpy.”

  “Mum! He’s just my boyfriend, we are not married…” Lily burst out. Then, catching the hurt look on James’s face, she added quickly, “Yet!”

  Bell couldn’t help but laugh at her daughter. It was a strained laugh, and it brought a wave of silence afterward—uncomfortable, but honest. After a pause, Lily forced some cheer into her voice. “We’ll be home soon.”

  Fifteen minutes down the road, at the house

  Tarni tossed a blood-soaked rug out the front door with a theatrical gag. “Mate, when you said you bled a lot, I didn’t realise you meant you redecorated.”

  Zane was on his hands and knees scrubbing the hallway floor. “You try checking a house in the dark with no power after fighting five goblins—while litres of blood pour out of your leg because you were dumb enough to pull out the spear—and then tell me how tidy you are.”

  “Fair,” Tarni said, opening a window to let in fresh air. “Place already smells better. Less death, more... Dettol.”

  Kai was upstairs dumping armfuls of shredded curtains and bloodied sheets into trash bags. “We should probably burn this stuff.”

  Zane stood, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Later. Let’s finish inside, then shift the generator into the old pump shed. Run extension leads through the back window—hide 'em behind the curtains.”

  Tarni nodded. “Then town run. I’m low on smokes anyway.”