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“This is not the moment for dominance,” I say. “This is the moment for celebration of our survival.”

They glare at each other, then they look at me. Neither moves. Elara comes to stand at my side.

“We made it out because all of us played a part. That’s what matters,” Elara says, her voice hoarse but sure.

Rosalind meets the Al’fa’s eyes.

“We have food caches hidden. Temporary shelters ready to be built. I planned more than just escape.”

The Al’fa’s shoulders ease a fraction. “You’ll share it?”

“Of course, with everyone,” she says, her eyes darting pointedly to me.

The Al’fa nods. Curt. Final. I turn towards the horizon. The dunes stretch wide and red and seemingly endless. Behind me, thousands breathe free air. It is time. I lift my voice, steady and sure.

“We return to Tajss—not as conquerors, not as mere survivors, but as children of her heart. Urr’ki, Human, and Zmaj. One people, one future.”

The words ring out. Rosalind moves to stand at my side, opposite the Al’fa. Visidion is beside her. The four of us stare over the rolling red-white striated dunes towards the horizon.

The people set to work and it all comes together. The future is brighter than it ever has been.

47

ELARA

The outside air tastes different—crisp, dry, laced with sand and dust—but real.

Untainted.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I breathe deep without fear of ash or collapse or death waiting in the shadows. I close my eyes and lift my face toward the suns. Their heat scorches across my skin, but I don’t shy away.

This is what survival feels like. This is home.

Ryatuv’s hand is cool around mine. Behind me, Z’leni’s breath warms the nape of my neck, steady and grounding. We haven’t spoken since emerging from the tunnels. There hasn’t been time. Not for this—this quiet, this peace.

We stand together in the glow of a day we didn’t think we’d live to see. And still, I can hardly believe we made it.

The crowd is thinning. People spread across the dunes in clusters. Some are building shelters, others are crying or praying or kissing like they never will again. I see Queen Rani speaking with Rosalind and the Al’fa. Their silhouettes outlined against the curve of a rising dune. She catches my eye and smiles then she gives a subtle nod. I smile, proud of all that we’ve accomplished.

“Come,” Ryatuv murmurs beside me. His voice is low, rough, but there’s a gentleness to it and a deep weariness that matches my own.

Z’leni brushes his fingers against my lower back, barely there, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he touches me too hard. I lean into both of them and let myself be led.

They guide me away from the bustle, away from the work and the noise and the weight of everything that we’ve all been through. They find a small outcropping of stone, tucked against the side of a dune, and drop our gear beside it. No one follows us.

It’s not much, just a hollow in the rock with a floor of sand, but right now, it feels like a sanctuary.

Ryatuv lowers himself first, sitting and stretching his legs out, arms braced behind him. Z’leni remains standing, eyes scanning the horizon as if he doesn’t quite trust the silence. I crouch beside Ryatuv and reach for Z’leni’s hand.

“I know that look.” My voice is quiet. “You’re waiting for the ground to swallow us again.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“I’ve been waiting for it to swallow us whole for long enough,” he murmurs. “It somehow feels wrong that it hasn’t.”

“But it didn’t,” I say, squeezing his fingers. “We’re here. We’re alive.”

“And together,” Ryatuv adds, his voice low and steady.