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The dryad’s father scooped her up in a whirlwind of spinning laughter while her mother knelt down, arms open wide for a second, tighter hug. Leaves rustled in their hair as they wept openly and joyfully into Lark’s wild curls. Watching them reunite was like witnessing spring crack open in the middle of winter.

Next came the selkies—an older woman with silver hair and kind sea-green eyes, flanked by two teenage selkie boys who immediately began arguing about who got to hug Sula first. Sula, all smug, sauntered up to them and was promptly tackled in a flurry of water-scented cloaks and happy tears. Her sealskin was draped carefully over one arm. Her mother kissed her forehead three times in a row before enveloping the girl in her massive shawl like it was armor.

“I didn’t think they’d all be so…” Kiva whispered. “Happy.”

“Of course they are,” I said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Children are the most important thing in their world. Just like you are to us.”

Nic’s reunion was more understated but no less moving. His father, a sharp-dressed incubus with worried eyes and thick braids, looked up at the manor as though bracing for a fight. Nic stepped forward quietly—and then was swallowed in a hug so tight his glamor briefly slipped, revealing the delicate wings he usually kept hidden.

“You grew taller,” his father murmured.

“You shrank,” Nic shot back.

“You’re grounded.”

They both laughed.

The goblin boy stood a few feet from the others, small and round with wide ears and sharp little teeth. He didn’t fidget like the others. He watched the horizon with the stillness of someone who wasn’t sure if what he hoped for would really come. My heart ached for him.

His parents didn’t come by carriage–no, they did something different. A portal shimmered in front of us and opened with a soft crackle. Goblin magick rippled jaggedly, like someone had cracked reality with a crowbar. Through it stepped two goblins: one squat and stern, the other taller with soft eyes and a large knit sweater that immediately caught in a bramble.

“Jib?” the soft-eyed one called, voice trembling.

Jib stiffened. His claws dug into his sleeves. “Mama?” he whispered.

She rushed forward with a speed that belied her age, scooping him up into arms that didn’t care about sharp edges or dirt-smudged cheeks.

“You’re safe,” she murmured over and over, pressing kisses to his forehead. “You’re safe, you’re safe.”

The other goblin—his father, I assumed—stood nearby, blinking hard. “Been searchin’ every corner of the world,” he muttered, voice thick. “Didn’t think we’d ever see you again, boy.”

Jib squirmed in his mother’s arms only long enough to launch himself at his father, who caught him with a surprised grunt and held him like something precious. The kind of holding that said,You are never leaving my arms again.

“I was brave,” Jib said, voice muffled against his father’s chest. “I wasn’t always brave, but I tried.”

“You were more than brave,” I said softly, stepping closer. “You were brilliant.”

Jib turned to look at me, his eyes shiny and a little wobbly. “Will you miss me?”

“Terribly,” I said, crouching to his height. “But you’ve got a home to return to, and you’ll always have a place here, too. If you ever want to visit…”

He nodded fiercely. Then, to my surprise, he threw his arms around me in a tight hug, his nose squishing against my shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, barely a whisper.

I held him for a long moment before letting go. His parents murmured their thanks too, their voices thick with emotion, and then, just like that, they stepped back through the portal—Jib’s little hand firmly clasped in theirs.

The rift shimmered shut behind them, leaving only the sound of birdsong and the rustle of grass in its place.

Kiva clung to Sloth’s leg on the other side of me. I could feel the tremor in her tiny frame, the moment tightening around her like a knot.

Then they came.

Hernewfamily.

It was fae couple obviously, radiant, willowy, and wild. The mother had sunset-colored eyes and wore golden moss along her sleeves. The father had curling horns, kind eyes, and a quiet smile that radiated patience. But it was the two fae children skipping beside them—one a boy with a crown of dandelions and the other a girl with freckles like starlight—that made Kiva go still.

“They brought… kids,” she whispered, in awe.