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B y the time I return to First House and collapse in near exhaustion, everything is quiet and still…so quiet and still that I fall face first into my bed and sink immediately into dreamless sleep.

I awaken in the early morning hours to find that Fortiss has found me.

I hear him slip into the door and recognize his energy immediately, as if we’re now forged from the same magic that thrums in our twin crowns.

His soft, quick footfalls across the floor of my bedroom echo my own rushing pulse, and he slips in beside me easily, as if, again, we’ve been joined together for years instead of what feels like mere moments.

His presence here feels like the most natural thing in the world—as if my body recognizes his before my mind even registers who his is.

How swiftly this man has become essential to me, a part of my being as vital as my connection to Gent, yet completely different.

Our words are soft in the darkness as our bodies intertwine, but with each sigh, each brush of our hands, our lips, our bodies, we’re writing a new story for the future.

I don’t know how this story will end, of course…but it’s certainly starting well.

After another full day of impressing the Imperial delegation and vowing our earnest loyalty to the Imperium, Syril, Tennet, Caleb, and I gather the following evening almost by unconscious agreement, warriors drawn together by our common bond.

I have no doubt that the others of our small group will join us soon.

It’s been a day full of so many plans, declarations, and promises, that it’s good to be with those who need to say very little to be understood.

This high above the open plains, the air carries the sweet, sharp scent of victory and woodsmoke as I lean against the banister of the First House’s eastern overlook.

My hands ache from the day’s training, but it’s a good ache, one that reminds me I’m alive and whole, and that the days to come will hold no challenges so heavy that we can’t overcome them.

The setting sun paints the wide plains in shades of gold and crimson, while far away in the Blessed Plane, I imagine our mighty Divhs soaring through a twilight sky, their shadows dancing across the waters of a shimmering lake.

It’s an image I’ll never tire of seeing, either in my mind or with my own eyes.

“Our newest warriors are managing well—the ones who are back on their feet already, anyway,” Caleb says, sprawled in one of the carved wooden chairs that Fortiss had servants drag out here.

His right arm gestures expansively at the vista before us.

“They seem sort of stunned, though, and I guess I can’t blame them.

An army of newly banded warriors and their Divhs, working together on the ground and in the sky, defeating an ancient evil?

Rihad’s—well, Talia’s now—mighty scorpion actually helping us defeat his dark plan to destroy the Protectorate?

The Imperial army seeing it all happen and stumbling around wonderstruck a full day later?

It’s like something out of a bard’s tale. ”

“One that no bard would dare tell,” Tennet puts in from his position near the edge of the overlook.

He stands with his feet braced, thumbs hooked in his belt, but his usual intensity is softened by the presence of Syril beside him—which is saying something, since the leader of the Savasci remains as fierce as ever.

Her shoulder barely brushes his arm, yet I can see how the contact grounds them both.

The mighty warrior of the Twelfth House has finally met his match, I think, and I can tell he doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

It’s all I can do not to grin.

“Oh, they’ll tell the tale,” Syril says dryly. “They’ll just get all the details wrong. In this case, though, it will be a blessing. Speaking of getting details wrong, however…” She casts a meaningful glance at Caleb, who immediately flushes red enough to match the sunset.

“Don’t start,” he mutters.

“Start what?” I focus more sharply on my friend, only it’s Syril who’s grinning now, her expression turning even more gleeful as Caleb waves her off.

She pays no attention. “Oh, nothing. Just warrior Dara of the Savasci following our young friend around like a love-struck falcon. She’s quite taken with his ‘heroic battlefield prowess.’”

Caleb groans and slumps farther in his chair, which only invites more good-natured laughter. “She just wants to learn more about working with Marsh,” he protests. “She’s fascinated by how we coordinate our attacks.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Tennet drawls, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Syril. The soft grunt he makes at the jab is deeply satisfying to me. Syril has particularly hard elbows.

“Leave him be,” Fortiss says, emerging from the doorway with a flagon of wine and several cups balanced carefully on a tray.

His eyes meet mine briefly as he moves to set them down, and the warm pride in his gaze makes my heart skip.

The fading sunlight catches in his hair, turning it to molten gold.

“We’ve all found unexpected connections through this conflict. ”

“Indeed, we have,” Nazar agrees, following with bread and cheese that fills the air with sharp, homey scents.

Miriam completes our party, carrying a stack of leather-bound books that she sets carefully aside before helping to distribute the wine.

The leather bindings smell of age and secrets, adding to the air of possibility that weaves around us, drawing us close.

We settle into a comfortable circle, the fellowship of shared battle making formal seating arrangements unnecessary.

I find myself between Fortiss and Caleb, their shoulders forming a protective bracket that feels entirely natural.

I’d trust either of them with my life and would gladly lay mine down for them—for anyone here, really.

The realization fills me with a real and lasting peace.

The wine—some of the Twelfth House’s finest—is rich and dark, tasting of berries and summer heat.

“I’ve been reviewing some of the texts we recovered from the Eighth House,” Miriam says after we’ve all taken our first sips.

“The accounts of the Western Realms before the Great Conflict are fascinating. There are hints of an entire civilization there, one that worked with both light and shadow. It bears…exploration.”

“And now we have the means to do that properly,” Nazar adds.

The priest’s voice remains, as always, even and patient, but there’s no denying the glint of interest in his eyes.

“The Divhs have shown us that the Blessed Plane connects to all realms. With proper guidance and respect, we could learn so much.”

“Proper guidance being the key phrase,” Fortiss says.

He absently touches the satchel at his hip where his crown now rests, a brighter mirror to the one I carry.

Even without seeing them, I can feel their power humming faintly, their connection only drawing Fortiss and I closer.

There’s still so much we have to learn, and Fortiss’s next words echo my own thoughts.

“We’ve seen what happens when that power is misused. ”

My hand finds his, our fingers intertwining.

His skin is warm against mine, callused from sword work but infinitely soft against my own rough palm.

“That’s why we’ll do it together,” I say quietly.

“All of us. The Divhs, the skrill, the warriors and scholars both. The old ways of separation served no one.”

The conversation flows on, but my attention is caught by a familiar hooting call, far away and somewhere else.

I imagine Gent floating on his starlit lake.

My connection to him hums strong and true in my chest, all the more powerful for having been lost and reclaimed.

At my thoughts, a rolling wave of joy floods through me, pure and fierce and perfect.

We fall into comfortable silence as the last rays of sun paint the sky in deeper purples and blues. The night air grows cooler, carrying the promise of stars and a future filled with more discoveries.

“To new beginnings,” Miriam says finally, raising her cup. “But may we never forget the past that brought us here.”

“To the Light,” Nazar adds as Caleb also hefts his cup.

“And to learning.” He grins. “Light knows we’ve got a lot of training ahead of us.”

“To the Protectorate and all she has brought us.” Fortiss looks around, his shoulder warm against mine. We all fall silent then, drinking deep as we each consider how far we’ve come—and how far we are so blessed to still be able to go.

I look around at these people who have become my family through fang and fire, trust and even love, then up at the starlit sky, imagining the Divhs who have helped make it possible.

In this moment, I can feel it all—the weight of the future, the strength of our bonds, the power of what we’ve built here in such a short time.

“Together, we will fight,” I remind them, and Fortiss turns to me, his eyes glittering with the magic he possesses as well as something deeper, truer, that will bind us together in both Light and darkness, wherever our paths may take us.

“Together,” he agrees, “we cannot fail.”