Page 55

Dante’s wing curves more securely around my shoulders, his tail wound gently around my wrist. Through our bond, I feel his contentment mirroring my own—scientist and Jersey Devil finding unexpected paradise not in isolation but community.

Sometimes I catch Dante watching me with such naked adoration it steals my breath. This male who once hid behind sarcasm now tells me he loves me a dozen times a day—as if the words might disappear if he doesn’t use them. And I, who once trusted only data, now leap into each morning knowing that love is the only certainty I need.

We’ve talked about expanding the sanctuary, creating research partnerships with sympathetic human scientists. Building the bridge my mother dreamed of. Making a world where cryptids and humans can coexist openly, where beings like us will never have to hide what they are.

Our story is already becoming a sanctuary legend—the hunter’s daughter and the Jersey Devil who proved that love transcends every boundary. Young cryptids ask me to tell it at bedtime, their eyes wide with the possibility that they, too, might find their perfect match across impossible odds.

“Happy?” he asks, the single word carrying depth beyond its simple syllables.

For once, I don’t analyzeor quantify or create methodological framework for my response. Some data requires no spreadsheet, no careful documentation, no scientific precision.

“Yes,” I reply simply. “Completely.”

As the sunset fades into twilight and crystals continue their mesmerizing dance, I rest my head against Dante’s shoulder. Whatever challenges tomorrow brings, whether echoes from my father’s world or new obstacles we cannot yet imagine, we will face them together. The hunter’s daughter and the Jersey Devil, bound by a connection stronger than either of us ever thought possible.

As crystal light shifts to indicate approaching dawn, we remain wrapped in each other’s embrace, our future stretching before us bright with possibility. Tomorrow will bring new joys—perhaps expanded research, perhaps new sanctuary residents, perhaps the family we’ve begun dreaming of creating together. My father’s world of fear feels like a distant memory now, replaced by this abundance of love and belonging I never knew was possible.

No spreadsheets could capture this moment. No scientific terminology could adequately describe the feeling of his hand in mine, his heartbeat steady against my ear, our family surrounding us with love that defies every probability calculation.

Some things don’t need to be analyzed—just lived, felt, cherished.

And finally, beautifully, completely—I’m home.

Some bonds defy probability calculations. Some loves transform rather than merely endure. And some families are created rather than born—chosen connections thatprove stronger than blood or species or origin.

Just like ours.