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A lump forms in my throat. I slip my arm around her waist, mindful of my staff. “Then let’s explore it,” I say, voice thick with emotion. “Wherever we roam, we shape our story. No fortress or clan can overshadow that.”

She leans her head on my shoulder, tears glimmering again. “Yes. And we do it as mates, forging a life no one can sunder.”

A quiet surge of pride and love swells in my chest. My wing stumps twinge, but the memory of flight no longer torments me as it once did. I have something greater: a vow that grounded me in a love deeper than the sky. We remain side by side, staring at the endless stars, each breath a testament to the final transformation from who we were—slave and executioner—to who we are now: free exiles, forging destiny in each other’s arms.

We meander along a faint trail, hand in hand, the staff tapping softly against stones. The forest parted behind us, thefuture wide open ahead. Our battered bodies ache, but our souls hum with renewed faith in tomorrow. This is our life now— building a home from scratch, forging each day in gentleness or ferocity as needed, just the two of us. No masters, no forced loyalty. Only the vow we sealed tonight under starlight, with nothing but the forest’s hush to witness.

As we crest one last hill, the moonlight reveals a valley drenched in silver glow. I pause, breath caught in my throat. Elyria’s eyes light with wonder. In unspoken agreement, we step forward, hearts pounding in unison. The gentle slope awaits our footprints, a symbol of the road we’ll walk—once dreaded, now chosen with love. Our hands tighten together, wooden rings pressing lightly against our skin, a quiet testament to the vow we made.

We exchange a final glance of shared devotion. Then, we move onward, forging into that moonlit valley side by side. My staff clicks against rocks, Elyria’s purna aura faintly shimmering around her ankles. The wind rustles the treetops, a hushed anthem for exiles who overcame all. My heart soars, even wingless, with the certainty that we shape our destiny by each other’s side.We are no longer defined by slavery or execution; we are equals, bound by love stronger than any chain.

Thus we walk into a future beyond the horizon, the final image etched in starlight: Elyria at my side, my mate in freedom, forging a new world. We vanish into the soft darkness, hearts pulsing in a vow that transcends clan, empire, and fear. Our story continues, unwritten yet brimming with possibility, bound by the vow we sealed beneath the moon and the silent adoration of the forest.

ELYRIA

I wake to a hush broken only by the distant murmur of the stream we settled beside months ago. A soft dawn glow spills through the doorway of our rustic cabin—a simple structure we built from pine logs and earth walls, shaped with our own hands (and sometimes my timid magic). My eyes flicker open, adjusting to the muted gold light. Instantly, my heart warms at the sight of Korrin curled in sleep beside me.

His hair, cropped a bit shorter now, brushes the pillow, dark against the homespun fabric. The faint scars along his shoulders have healed to pale lines, and the bandages that once covered his wing stumps are long gone, replaced by patches of pale, smooth skin that no longer leak pain. Even so, he sometimes groans in the night, phantom aches haunting him. I press a gentle hand to the spot where his wings used to be, grateful that we’ve reached a place of peace despite all we lost.

He stirs, blinking awake with a sleepy grin. “You’re up early,” he murmurs, voice rumbling from his chest. “Already plotting how to coax magic from the earth?”

A chuckle escapes me. “Maybe.” I shift closer, letting our foreheads touch. Two years, and the wonder of lying at his sideremains as fresh as the day we first pledged ourselves. “You’ve got me figured out,” I tease, lips curving.

He moves to sit, leaning on the carved walking staff that rests by our bed. Even after so much healing, he keeps it near—part symbol of his changed life, part practical support when his stumps ache. My heart twinges remembering how he once soared above these forests, but that twinge quickly dissolves into warmth for the man he is now, standing beside me on solid ground.

Our cabin is modest: a single room with a hearth, a table Korrin built, shelves we fashioned from driftwood. The walls are decorated with dried herbs, wildflowers, small wooden carvings. I see on the shelf the two wooden rings we once carved as tokens in our vow—set there for safekeeping whenever we do messy chores. The sight of them stirs a tender smile.We might be exiles, but in this home, we reign as equals.

The early sun bathes our clearing in cool gold. After a simple breakfast—dried fruit and leftover stew—I slip outside to tend our small garden. Under Korrin’s watchful eye, and with my purna spark, we coaxed a patch of wild vegetables into something reliable. Green shoots poke through the dark soil, leaves shimmering with dew. I kneel among them, feeling the faint hum of magic through my fingertips, encouraging growth without scorching the earth.

Korrin joins me, staff tucked under his arm as he inspects the fence we built around the garden. “No sign of critters sneaking in,” he notes with satisfaction. He gestures at the drooping vines of peas. “They’ll need support soon.”

I grin, warmth blooming in my chest. “You know,” I say, rising to dust off my skirt, “I still remember the day we were half-starved fugitives, scraping mushrooms off rocks. Look at us now, boasting an entire row of peas.”

He laughs softly, the sound like low thunder, and steps forward to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. “You were always good at coaxing the best from the land, even when you doubted your purna gifts.” He leans down, pressing a brief kiss to my forehead. My heart flips in that old, familiar way.

We spend the afternoon tending small tasks: checking the snares for game (finding two plump rabbits that will feed us for days), gathering herbs from the nearby glade, chopping firewood. Even after so long, we approach each chore with a shared reverence.We might still bear scars, but each time we set a snare or chop wood, we remind ourselves we live free, forging our destiny together.

Korrin’s strength has grown, though his shoulders remain forever changed where wings once sprouted. He jokes about it sometimes, calls himself a “ground-dweller for good.” But I see flickers of longing in his eyes whenever a hawk arcs overhead, or the wind stirs the pines in a way that once signaled flight. My chest tightens, recalling all he gave up.He never regrets it, though.That knowledge steels my resolve to love him unconditionally.

By dusk, the sky blazes with sunset hues: rich oranges and purples that reflect off our cabin’s walls. I help Korrin stack fresh logs near the hearth, and together we prepare a hearty rabbit stew, seasoning it with onion-like roots and wild garlic. The cabin fills with the comforting aroma, making my stomach rumble. He stands close, stirring the pot, occasionally brushing against me. Each small contact thrills me in a way that hasn’t diminished across two years of cohabitation.We found a life that suits us, one without the shackles or hunts.

While the stew simmers, we step out into the clearing to watch the last ribbons of sunset fade behind the distant hills. Korrin rests a hand on my waist, and I fold into him, cheek against his chest. The hush of evening envelopes us, the forestbrimming with subtle night sounds. I recall nights in that fortress, how I trembled at every shadow. Now, the dark is ours, a friendly cloak rather than a threat.

He presses his lips to my temple. “Tomorrow marks exactly two years since we left the last battlefield behind,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Two years of forging a home in these hills.”

I nod, tears prickling. “Seems a lifetime ago,” I whisper. “Yet I still feel the echoes of those final vows we made, cutting off all ties to the old world.”

He shifts, turning me to face him. His gaze glitters with warmth under the starlight. “We vowed so many things—freedom, no more chains, shaping destiny together.” He slides his hand up to cradle my cheek. “I never want to forget how we overcame those battles.”

Emotions swell in my chest, tears slipping free. “I won’t let either of us forget,” I murmur. “But I also want us to move forward, fully. We did more than survive; we blossomed.”

His lips curl in a tender smile, and he dips his head to kiss me, slow and lingering. The forest hush cradles us, a silent witness to the love that thrived once we escaped captivity. My body warms at his nearness, heart thrumming with an old, familiar desire.Tonight, I want to reaffirm that vow in more than words.

After dinner—steaming bowls of rabbit stew that we savor in comfortable silence—we settle by the small hearth inside our cabin. The flicker of firelight plays over Korrin’s face, illuminating the faint lines of scars and the gentle set of his mouth. The staff leans against the wall, no longer as necessary as it once was, but kept near.

He catches my gaze and lifts a brow. “You’re giving me that look,” he teases, voice dropping low. “Like you have something in mind.”

A soft laugh bubbles from my lips. “Observant gargoyle,” I murmur, shifting closer. My pulse quickens. “Yes, I was… thinking about how we used to cling to each other on the run, so desperate, so frantic.” My breath hitches. “Now, we have time, safety. I’d like to… savor that.”