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After the applause dies down, the Matriarch steps forward, illusions drifting in gentle arcs. “We celebrate a vow that strengthens our coven’s unity. May it inspire all to remember that from the ashes of war, bonds can form that transcend old hostilities. Let Vaelin and Elira stand as living proof.”

My throat tightens with emotion. Vaelin’s hand finds mine, illusions binding us in a gentle swirl. We exchange a smile, the entire atrium’s warmth radiating around us. The vow is official, recognized, a quiet but potent statement that we choose each other—again and again.

After the brief announcement, the coven returns to daily routines: wards, lessons, forging alliances with outlying enclaves. Vaelin and I stroll through the corridors, illusions swirling in calm patterns. He wears the medallion around his neck, its runic markings reflecting the candlelight. My illusions occasionally flicker over it in fascination.

We pause at a window overlooking the distant valley. The sun sets in a blaze of orange and pink, painting the sky. My staff leans against the wall, illusions drifting in lazy arcs around us. Vaelin’s expression grows thoughtful. “It’s strange,” he murmurs, “to think how far we’ve come in a matter of months. From enemies on a battlefield to mates forging a new world.”

I slip my arm around his waist, illusions brightening at the contact. “If anyone had told me, back when you first appeared as the Overlord’s enforcer, that I’d one day share illusions with you as my vessel, I’d have called them mad.” A soft laugh escapes me. “Yet here we are.”

He presses his lips to my temple, illusions shimmering with quiet joy. “Here we are indeed. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

My heart flutters, the bond between us throbbing with that renewed vow. The Overlord may still lurk, gargoyles might remain sealed but never wholly safe, and Protheka’s alliances might be fragile. But in this moment, in the hush of the coven halls, I sense a future stretching before us—one shaped by determination and love, not by monstrous curses or twisted fates.

I lean into him, letting the final rays of sunset bathe us in gold. “I choose you, Vaelin,” I whisper, illusions swirling in tender arcs. “Again and again, every day.”

He smiles, illusions responding in kind. “And I, you, Elira. Now and always.”

Outside, the sky dims, the first stars gleaming overhead. Within, the gentle glow of illusions reflects an unbreakable vow, forging our path with luminous devotion. We hold each other as the night creeps in, content in the knowledge that no darkness can sunder what we’ve built together—ourbond,ourchoice, andourtriumphant love.