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He had shown me that vulnerability was not a weakness, but a strength. I had learned to trust again, to open my heart, not just to him, but to the possibility of joy and love. I was no longer just a mother or a widow, no longer a hollow imitation of life; I was Soraya—someone deserving of happiness and fulfillment.

I had reclaimed my voice and my dreams, and I was ready to embrace the future, whatever it may hold.

“Elias,” I said at last, breaking the tranquil quiet. “He must be worried...”

“He’s safe,” Vorgath reassured me. “He's with Mrs. Crumble. Nothing and no one’s getting past that brownie. Not even me,” he added with a rough chuckle.

I smiled despite everything. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“For what?” he asked.

“For taking care of Elias. For not giving up. For...” I faltered briefly, searching for the right words.

But he didn't wait for me to find them. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. A small sound escaped me, a soft hum of contentment, as his tusks brushed lightly against my cheek. I pressed closer, letting myself sink into the sensation of being enveloped by him, his warmth, his strength, the protective way his arms wrapped around me like I was the most valuable thing he’d ever held.

When we finally pulled apart, the world felt a little softer. His forehead rested against mine, and for a few heady seconds, we simply stood there, breathing in each other’s air. I could hear Elias’s laugh in my head, see Kald’s ghost in my memories, watch the remnants of my old life smoldering in the ashes with the forge that had burned down before I rebuilt it brick by brick…

And underneath it all, I saw Vorgath. Always there. Always steady.

“Let’s go home,” he rumbled softly.

He released me just enough to grab my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and together, we turned toward the door. The flickering firelight behind us painted long shadows on the stone walls, but I didn’t look back, not at the mimic’s remains, not at the place where Dregor had vanished. This place was behind us now. The grief, the anger—it didn’t own me anymore.

As we stepped into the cold night air, I tightened my grip on Vorgath’s hand, feeling the reassuring warmth of his calloused skin. The stars above seemed brighter, the wind crisper, and for the first time in a long time, the future felt wide open.

We weren't just returning to the forge, or to Elias, or to the life we had begun to build. We were stepping forward, into something new, something neither of us could have ever imagined. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with challenges we had yet to face, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

I was not afraid.

Epilogue Part I

The soft glow of the charmstone by my front door welcomed me, its gentle warmth a familiar comfort after a long day. I brushed my fingers over it, ensuring the wards were still in place, as I always did without thinking. The faint hum of magic passed beneath my fingertips—steady, reliable—as certain and quiet as my life had become.

I opened the door and crossed the threshold, entering the home I now shared with Vorgath, breathing in the familiar scents: the rich tang of savory stew simmering on the hearth, the hint of pine from the nearby forest mixed with the scent of the forge that clung to the thick stones of the cottage.

It had taken time, but with the steady income from both of our forges, we’d managed to purchase the land surrounding my cottage. Together, we’d expanded—building onto the existing structure to create something that suited both of us. The cozy cottage had grown into a larger home, blending my sense of warmth with the practicality of his orcish craftsmanship. Therooms were larger, the ceilings higher to accommodate his size, but it still held the charm of the home I’d known for so long.

The forge, too, had grown. While my original workspace remained intact, we added a separate area where we could work side by side, combining our skills in new ways. It wasn’t just a place for me anymore—it was a place for us, a reflection of everything we’d built together.

Elias barely noticed me as I slipped through the door, his attention fixed entirely on the small, whirring gadget in his hands. The little wind-up bird he'd been working on looked a little more battered than when I'd seen it earlier, its wings now flapping in uneven, spasmodic jerks.

“Time to wash up, Elias,” came Vorgath’s deep, patient voice as he neared. He still hadn’t spotted me, focused as he was on trying to wrangle my son.

Elias darted around the table, nimble for a boy on the verge of growing into his lanky, adolescent body. His laughter echoed through the warm walls of our home as he deftly avoided Vorgath’s outstretched arm.

Mrs. Crumble, perched near the hearth, was dishing out the stew into large bowls. Each dollop of steaming vegetables and meat tinkled in the ceramic with a magical flourish, a faint sparkle lingering in the steam. She didn’t turn but shook her head, a knowing smile curving her lips as her moss-like hair bobbed.

“You’ll never catch him like that, Vorgath. Orc though you may be, you’ve met your match with this one.”

Before Vorgath could respond, Lira appeared from the other side of the room, dropping a set of plates on the large wooden table.

“Dinner!” she called with the authority of someone who had grown fond of ordering Elias around, despite being only a fewyears older. “Sit now, or I’ll make you clean every tool in the workshop tomorrow.”

The challenge worked. Elias skidded to a stop, eyes widening before he glanced between her and Vorgath. He huffed dramatically, and I took that moment to step further into the room, a soft laugh escaping me as I placed my pack by the door.

“Ahh, there she is,” Vorgath said, his deep voice warming as he finally noticed me. He strode across the floor and wrapped his solid arms around me, pulling me close for a quick kiss on the forehead. “How was the market?”

I leaned into him, enjoying both the comfort and the subtle thrill that always came from his touch. “Busy,” I replied, smiling up at him. “Sold out of everything.”