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I wake to a hush broken only by the distant murmur of the stream we settled beside months ago.

A soft dawn glow spills through the doorway of our rustic cabin—a simple structure we built from pine logs and earth walls, shaped with our own hands (and sometimes my timid magic).

My eyes flicker open, adjusting to the muted gold light.

Instantly, my heart warms at the sight of Korrin curled in sleep beside me.

His hair, cropped a bit shorter now, brushes the pillow, dark against the homespun fabric.

The faint scars along his shoulders have healed to pale lines, and the bandages that once covered his wing stumps are long gone, replaced by patches of pale, smooth skin that no longer leak pain.

Even so, he sometimes groans in the night, phantom aches haunting him.

I press a gentle hand to the spot where his wings used to be, grateful that we’ve reached a place of peace despite all we lost.

He stirs, blinking awake with a sleepy grin. “You’re up early,” he murmurs, voice rumbling from his chest. “Already plotting how to coax magic from the earth?”

A chuckle escapes me. “Maybe.” I shift closer, letting our foreheads touch. Two years, and the wonder of lying at his side remains as fresh as the day we first pledged ourselves. “You’ve got me figured out,” I tease, lips curving.

He moves to sit, leaning on the carved walking staff that rests by our bed.

Even after so much healing, he keeps it near—part symbol of his changed life, part practical support when his stumps ache.

My heart twinges remembering how he once soared above these forests, but that twinge quickly dissolves into warmth for the man he is now, standing beside me on solid ground.

Our cabin is modest: a single room with a hearth, a table Korrin built, shelves we fashioned from driftwood.

The walls are decorated with dried herbs, wildflowers, small wooden carvings.

I see on the shelf the two wooden rings we once carved as tokens in our vow—set there for safekeeping whenever we do messy chores.

The sight of them stirs a tender smile. We might be exiles, but in this home, we reign as equals.

The early sun bathes our clearing in cool gold.

After a simple breakfast—dried fruit and leftover stew—I slip outside to tend our small garden.

Under Korrin’s watchful eye, and with my purna spark, we coaxed a patch of wild vegetables into something reliable.

Green shoots poke through the dark soil, leaves shimmering with dew.

I kneel among them, feeling the faint hum of magic through my fingertips, encouraging growth without scorching the earth.

Korrin joins me, staff tucked under his arm as he inspects the fence we built around the garden. “No sign of critters sneaking in,” he notes with satisfaction. He gestures at the drooping vines of peas. “They’ll need support soon.”

I grin, warmth blooming in my chest. “You know,” I say, rising to dust off my skirt, “I still remember the day we were half-starved fugitives, scraping mushrooms off rocks. Look at us now, boasting an entire row of peas.”

He laughs softly, the sound like low thunder, and steps forward to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. “You were always good at coaxing the best from the land, even when you doubted your purna gifts.” He leans down, pressing a brief kiss to my forehead. My heart flips in that old, familiar way.

We spend the afternoon tending small tasks: checking the snares for game (finding two plump rabbits that will feed us for days), gathering herbs from the nearby glade, chopping firewood.

Even after so long, we approach each chore with a shared reverence.

We might still bear scars, but each time we set a snare or chop wood, we remind ourselves we live free, forging our destiny together.

Korrin’s strength has grown, though his shoulders remain forever changed where wings once sprouted.

He jokes about it sometimes, calls himself a “ground-dweller for good.” But I see flickers of longing in his eyes whenever a hawk arcs overhead, or the wind stirs the pines in a way that once signaled flight.

My chest tightens, recalling all he gave up.

He never regrets it, though. That knowledge steels my resolve to love him unconditionally.

By dusk, the sky blazes with sunset hues: rich oranges and purples that reflect off our cabin’s walls.

I help Korrin stack fresh logs near the hearth, and together we prepare a hearty rabbit stew, seasoning it with onion-like roots and wild garlic.

The cabin fills with the comforting aroma, making my stomach rumble.

He stands close, stirring the pot, occasionally brushing against me.

Each small contact thrills me in a way that hasn’t diminished across two years of cohabitation.

We found a life that suits us, one without the shackles or hunts.

While the stew simmers, we step out into the clearing to watch the last ribbons of sunset fade behind the distant hills.

Korrin rests a hand on my waist, and I fold into him, cheek against his chest. The hush of evening envelopes us, the forest brimming with subtle night sounds.

I recall nights in that fortress, how I trembled at every shadow.

Now, the dark is ours, a friendly cloak rather than a threat.

He presses his lips to my temple. “Tomorrow marks exactly two years since we left the last battlefield behind,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Two years of forging a home in these hills.”

I nod, tears prickling. “Seems a lifetime ago,” I whisper. “Yet I still feel the echoes of those final vows we made, cutting off all ties to the old world.”

He shifts, turning me to face him. His gaze glitters with warmth under the starlight. “We vowed so many things—freedom, no more chains, shaping destiny together.” He slides his hand up to cradle my cheek. “I never want to forget how we overcame those battles.”

Emotions swell in my chest, tears slipping free. “I won’t let either of us forget,” I murmur. “But I also want us to move forward, fully. We did more than survive; we blossomed.”

His lips curl in a tender smile, and he dips his head to kiss me, slow and lingering.

The forest hush cradles us, a silent witness to the love that thrived once we escaped captivity.

My body warms at his nearness, heart thrumming with an old, familiar desire.

Tonight, I want to reaffirm that vow in more than words.

After dinner—steaming bowls of rabbit stew that we savor in comfortable silence—we settle by the small hearth inside our cabin.

The flicker of firelight plays over Korrin’s face, illuminating the faint lines of scars and the gentle set of his mouth.

The staff leans against the wall, no longer as necessary as it once was, but kept near.

He catches my gaze and lifts a brow. “You’re giving me that look,” he teases, voice dropping low. “Like you have something in mind.”

A soft laugh bubbles from my lips. “Observant gargoyle,” I murmur, shifting closer. My pulse quickens. “Yes, I was… thinking about how we used to cling to each other on the run, so desperate, so frantic.” My breath hitches. “Now, we have time, safety. I’d like to… savor that.”

His eyes glow with warmth, a subtle hunger stirring beneath. He sets aside the wooden bowl, then reaches for me. Our fingers entwine, and the closeness ignites a spark deep in my belly. Two years, and his touch still sends currents through me.

He leans in, brushing a kiss along my jaw, voice hushed with reverence. “I savor you every day, Elyria,” he whispers. “But if you want to remind ourselves how far we’ve come…”

Heat blooms under my skin. “I do,” I answer softly, pressing my forehead to his, letting our breath mingle. No fear or constraints, just the promise of a night that belongs solely to us.

Slowly, gently, we shed the day’s dust and the remnants of old burdens.

Each kiss is unhurried, each touch reverent, as though we are memorizing the map of our devotion anew.

My heart pounds in my chest, recalling frantic couplings in caves and ruinous fortresses, overshadowed by danger.

But tonight, in the hush of our home, we have only the flicker of firelight to bear witness.

Korrin’s hands glide along my sides, exploring the curves that hold two years of peace instead of scars. I let out a trembling sigh, burying my fingers in his dark hair, relishing the closeness of our bodies. The unspoken vow hums between us, the vow we made to choose each other in every breath.

We sink onto the woven blanket near the hearth, the heat of the flames dancing across our skin.

His lips travel over my neck, stirring memories of the moment he shattered his wings to spare my life.

A flood of gratitude and longing envelop me.

I arch closer, pressing kisses to his shoulder.

He hisses a bit as my nails skim the edges of his stumps—still sensitive. I lift my head, apology brimming.

He exhales, pain flickering but overshadowed by devotion. “I’m all right,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel every bit of you.”

Tears slip from my eyes as I gently cradle his face, pressing my lips to his in a passionate kiss that speaks of more than lust— it’s the testament of two exiles choosing love over flight or fear. Our breathing grows ragged, the crackle of the hearth a steady counterpoint.

In the flickering firelight, we let ourselves surrender to the moment. His hands slide down my waist, fingers tracing the dip of my hips before gripping my thighs. I arch against him, breath hitching as his cock brushes my stomach, hard and hot.

“How much do you want me?” Korrin murmurs, voice rough. I obey, meeting his darkened eyes as he guides himself to my entrance. His thumb strokes my clit in slow circles, coaxing a whimper from my throat. “Tell me you want us, this.”

“Always,” I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. “Every part of you.”

He sinks into me with a groan, our bodies joining in a slow, searing slide. The stretch is exquisite, the fullness stealing my breath. I clutch him tighter, thighs trembling around his hips.

“Gods, Elyria—” His forehead drops to mine, his rhythm deliberate, each thrust deep and unhurried. “You feel… fuck, you feel like paradise, my home, my everything.”

Heat coils low in my belly, building with every roll of his hips. My pussy clenches around him, drawing a ragged curse from his lips. The wooden ring on my finger glints in the firelight, a vow etched in every movement—our bodies speaking what words cannot.

“Korrin…” I moan, my heart swelling with so much love, it’s overflowing.

His kisses trail down my throat, teeth grazing my collarbone.

“I love the sounds you make,” he growls, grinding deeper.

“Love how you take me, so perfect and so beautiful. I love the way you taste, the way you smile, the way you comb your hair, even the way you talk… I can listen to you all day, all night…”

“I love you… I love you…” I repeat over and over as he pistons inside me, moving as if we only have tonight. But I know we have a lifetime… and forever.

Korrin ignites my body with ecstasy, driving me to the point of insanity. Pleasure crests, sharp and sweet. My back bows as my climax crashes over me, a silent cry tearing from my lips.

“Elyria!” Korrin follows, his cock pulsing inside me as he comes in me with a shuddering groan, his broken wings twitching behind him in instinctive reflex.

For a heartbeat, there’s only the sound of our ragged breaths, the crackle of the hearth. Then he collapses beside me, pulling me into his arms. His fingers trace my spine, reverent.

“You are my home,” he whispers, voice thick. “My mate. My everything. My world.”

I press a kiss to his sweat-damp chest. “And you’re mine. No matter where we roam, we carry each other.”

The fire dims to embers, but the warmth between us lingers—a quiet, unshakable truth.

A wave of contentment drapes over us, an afterglow so serene it eclipses the memory of pain. We remain locked in each other’s arms, the fire dying to embers, the forest hush lulling us into a state of blissful exhaustion.

Sometime past midnight, I stir, reluctant to break the warmth of his embrace.

The cabin is dark except for the faint glow of dying coals.

I peer at his sleeping face: the strong line of his jaw, the faint quirk of a smile even in slumber.

My chest tightens with renewed love. We shape our own destiny—where no chain or vow can overshadow the freedom we claimed.

Outside, the wind moans softly. I ease from his arms, slipping on a simple robe.

At the cabin doorway, I gaze out at the moonlit clearing, breath catching at the sight of starlight dusting the pines.

My mind drifts to the vow we sealed hours earlier with our bodies—like a reaffirmation of the vow we once made under the battered sky, after we fled the alpha’s fortress.

But tonight, there was no desperation in our lovemaking, only quiet joy.

Behind me, Korrin murmurs, stirring awake. He rises, staff in hand, silhouette strong despite his wingless form. My heart soars, bridging the two-year journey from tortured executioner to free man who stands by my side. He hobbles over, chest still bare, eyes reflecting the gentle moonlight.

With a shy grin, he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. We stand in the doorway, overlooking the forest we learned to cultivate and love. “Tomorrow,” he says softly, “we’ll check the new orchard sprouts, right? Your magic coaxed them to blossom early.”

I nod, tears brimming, unstoppable. “Yes. And we can expand the garden. Maybe find a second clearing for more vegetables. We can even set up a small watchtower on the ridge if you want.” My voice shakes with excitement. So many possibilities.

He presses a tender kiss to my temple. “We have all the time in the world,” he murmurs. “No masters, no hunts, no forced oaths. Just… us.”

A sob escapes me, but it’s a sob of happiness. I tighten my arms around his waist, cheek pressed to his chest. “Yes,” I whisper, voice thick. “We walk forward, side by side, shaping each day with love instead of fear.”

He holds me in that hush, the forest echoing our vow.

Our final image is thus: two battered exiles, now equals, stepping beyond all we once were— her purna magic, my severed wings— forging a gentle future in a land free of tyranny.

The moonlight bathes us, the hush of night resonating with the gentle throbbing of our hearts.

This is our destiny, sealed in love, unstoppable.

No chain, no collar, no decree. Only us, mates in freedom, forging a new dawn with each sunrise.