Page 6 of Eggsactly the Right Gargoyle (Evershift Haven #7)

I KNEEL BESIDE A CLUSTER of newly sprouted moonflowers, their silver-white petals unfurling toward the afternoon sun. Four days of restoration work has transformed the once-dormant Glimmergrove into something approaching its former glory. The air vibrates with magic—raw, wild, and increasingly potent.

“These are coming along nicely,” I say, running my stone finger along the edge of a petal. The flower leans into my touch, a reaction that still surprises me after centuries of plants withering at my contact.

“They love you,” says Talia from a few feet away. She’s coaxing a patch of luminescent moss to spread across a fallen log, her hands glowing with golden light. “Plants know who cares for them.”

I grunt noncommittally, though her words warm something inside me. The sunlight catches in her dark curls, creating a halo effect that makes her look like she belongs here among the growing things. Her enchanted scarf shifts from deep purple to a vibrant gold, matching her mood.

“I don’t think they loved me much before you arrived.”

Talia laughs, the sound rippling through the grove like music. “Maybe they just needed a proper introduction.”

She stands and stretches. I avert my gaze, focusing intently on the moonflower. Four days of working side by side with Talia has been challenging. Not because she’s difficult—quite the opposite. She’s warm, enthusiastic, and radiates a joy that draws me in despite my best efforts to maintain distance.

“I think we should check the boundary stones next,” she says, walking toward me. “They seemed to be responding to our combined magic yesterday.”

I nod and rise to my full height, towering over her. Yet she never seems intimidated by my stone form or my size. She treats me like I’m... normal. Human, even.

“Lead the way,” I say.

We walk deeper into the grove, navigating between newly sprouted undergrowth. The sentient vine seedling we created—now nearly as tall as Talia—waves cheerfully as we pass. “Hello, friends,” it calls in its strange, whispery voice.

“Hello, Sprout,” Talia responds with a smile. She insisted on naming the vine, despite my protests that magical sentient plants rarely need names.

The path narrows, forcing us to walk closer together. Her arm occasionally brushes against mine, sending jolts of warmth through my stone skin. I try to focus on anything but the witch beside me.

“Watch your step,” I warn as we approach a particularly gnarled root system. “These old roots can be—”

My warning comes too late. A vine—not Sprout, but one of the older, more mischievous plants—snakes across the path. It wraps around my ankle, yanking hard. I stumble forward, flaring my wings instinctively for balance. Talia turns at my exclamation, her eyes widening as I pitch toward her. I throw my hands out to catch myself, but there’s nowhere to land except against her.

She braces herself, hands coming up to steady me. My momentum carries us backward until her back meets the trunk of an ancient oak. My hands land on either side of her head, caging her between my arms.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her breath warm against my face.

We’re too close. She looks up at me, and the rings in her eyes are glowing now, her magic responding to our proximity. I should move away. I should apologize and step back.

I don’t.

“Dorian?” she whispers.

My name on her lips breaks something loose inside me. I lean down, closing the distance between us. Her lips are soft against mine, warm and yielding. She tastes like sunshine and honey. She slides her hands up my chest to my shoulders, pulling me closer.

For one perfect moment, I forget everything—my guilt, my failures, and my century of solitude. There is only Talia, her warmth, her light, and her magic calling to mine.

Then reality crashes back. I jerk away, stumbling backward. My wings snap open fully, responding to my agitation. “I—I’m sorry,” I stammer, horrified at my lapse in control. “That was inappropriate.”

She touches her fingers to her lips, her eyes wide. “Dorian, it’s okay—”

“No,” I cut her off. “It’s not. I never should have—” I shake my head, unable to finish the thought. “I need some air.”

Before she can respond, I launch myself into the sky, powerful wing beats carrying me away from the grove, away from Talia, away from the confusion and desire threatening to overwhelm me.

I fly without direction, letting instinct guide me. The cool air against my face does little to calm the storm inside me. What was I thinking? Kissing Talia threatens to open me up to all the emotions I’ve suppressed since losing Luetha.

My wings carry me to the chapel, my asylum for centuries. I land on the highest spire, perching like the gargoyle I am, and overlooking the town of Evershift Haven below. From here, everyone looks small, their problems insignificant. I wish my own troubles could shrink so easily.

I close my eyelids, trying to center myself through meditation without entering stone hibernation. It’s a technique I’ve used for centuries to maintain control, to keep my emotions in check. Today, it fails me completely.

The wind carries Talia’s laughter, though she’s nowhere near. Her scent fills my nostrils though I’m miles from the grove. My stone skin, normally cool to the touch, radiates warmth as if I’ve been basking in the summer sun.

“What is happening to me?” I mutter, pressing my palms against the stone spire.

Even the chapel, my refuge for so long, offers no comfort. The stones seem to hum with the same melody as the resonance eggs that brought Talia and me together. The stained glass windows catch the light, casting patterns that remind me of the golden glow in her eyes when she works her sun magic.

I can’t escape her. More concerning, I’m not sure I want to.

Hours pass as I perch on my spire, wrestling with thoughts and feelings long dormant. The sun begins its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I should return to my quarters, try to sleep, face Talia tomorrow with an apology and a professional distance.

Instead, I launch from the spire, wings spread wide as I glide back toward the Glimmergrove. I tell myself I’m checking on our work, making sure the new growth is stable overnight, but I’m lying to myself, and I know it.

The grove glows with its own light as dusk settles, with the luminescent moss, the moonflowers opening to greet the rising moon, and the magical fireflies dancing between the trees. I circle overhead, scanning the clearing.

Talia sits on a fallen log near the center, her head bent over something in her hands. A scroll, from the look of it, the parchment glowing faintly in the gathering darkness.

I land softly several yards away, folding my wings against my back. She doesn’t notice me at first, absorbed in whatever message she’s reading. Her expression shifts from surprise to embarrassment to something like alarm.

“What’s that?” I ask, stepping into the clearing.

She jumps, and the scroll nearly falls from her hands. “Dorian? You startled me.”

“Sorry,” I say, approaching cautiously. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

She clutches the scroll to her chest as her enchanted scarf shifts rapidly between pink, red, purple, and gold before settling on a flustered orange. “I thought you’d gone for the night.”

“I needed to clear my head,” I say, stopping a respectful distance away. “About earlier—”

“It’s a message from Grizelda,” she interrupts, holding up the scroll. Her cheeks darken with a blush. “It just arrived.”

I raise an eyebrow, grateful for the change of subject. “What is it?”

Talia’s blush deepens. She glances down at the scroll, then back at me. “It’s, um, a warning. Of sorts.”

My curiosity piqued, I move closer. “A warning about what?”

She takes a deep breath and holds out the scroll. “See for yourself.”

I take the parchment, careful not to tear it. Grizelda’s handwriting sprawls across the page in purple ink that seems to shimmer:

“Careful, sweetie. Ostara’s Mating Phase begins tonight. If you two are fated... Let’s just say spring doesn’t wait for declarations.”

I stare at the words, reading them twice to make sure I haven’t misunderstood. “Ostara’s Mating Phase?” I repeat, my voice strangely hoarse.

A small puff of air materializes between us, and suddenly, Hecate appears, her tiny form hovering impossibly in midair. “It’s like heat season. For feelings,” the dog announces with obvious glee, “And you’re definitely both doomed.” She vanishes again with a pop, leaving only her disembodied voice echoing, “Doooooomed!”

I look from the empty space where Hecate disappeared to Talia’s mortified expression, then back to the scroll in my hands. “Is this true? About the Mating Phase?”

Talia peeks through her fingers. “I don’t know. Maybe? I’m still new to all this Ostara Festival stuff.” She drops her hands with a sigh. “Grizelda wouldn’t joke about something like this though.”

I roll the scroll carefully. The Ostara Festival celebrates spring, renewal, and fertility... I’ve avoided it for centuries, preferring my solitude to the town’s enthusiastic celebrations. I vaguely recall mentions of a “mating phase” in ancient texts, but I’d dismissed it as symbolic rather than literal. “This would explain a few things,” I say slowly.

“Like what?” she asks, her voice small.

I gesture vaguely around us. “The grove responding so strongly to our combined magic. The way the plants seem to encourage us to work closely together.” I pause, remembering the vine that tripped me earlier. “The way I can’t seem to escape your presence even when I’m miles away.”

“You’ve been experiencing that too?” Talia’s eyes widen. “I thought it was just me. All day, even after you left, I kept hearing your voice in the rustling leaves. The stones felt warm, like your skin.”

Our gazes meet. This isn’t just attraction, though that’s certainly part of it. This is magic, old and powerful, recognizing something between us that we’ve barely acknowledged ourselves.

“What do we do?” she asks.

Before I can answer, Hecate materializes again, this time perched on a nearby branch. “You could try not fighting it,” the tiny dog suggests. “Just a thought.”

“Nobody asked you,” says Talia with a scowl.

Hecate shrugs, her fluffy tail swishing. “I’m just saying, magical destiny is magical destiny. You can run, but you can’t hide.” She disappears again, her laughter lingering in the air.

Grizelda’s warning about Ostara’s Mating Phase remains between us. “We should focus on our work. The boundary stones need reinforcement before nightfall.”

She nods, tucking the scroll into her apron pocket. “Right. Work. That’s why we’re here.”

We walk side by side toward the outer edge of the grove, where ancient boundary stones form a protective circle. Neither of us mentions the kiss from earlier or Grizelda’s warning. The professional distance feels forced, unnatural, but necessary.

“I’ll start on the eastern markers,” says Talia, her voice overly bright. “You take the western ones?”

“Good plan.” I nod stiffly. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

We separate, moving to opposite sides of the grove. Distance should help clear my head, give me space to regain control. Instead, I’m hyperaware of her every movement. The rustle of her dress as she kneels by a boundary stone. The soft hum she makes when concentrating. The golden glow of her hands as she channels her sun magic into the ancient markers.

I press my palms against a weathered boundary stone, trying to focus on my task. The stone responds immediately, warming beneath my touch. Gray tendrils of my magic flow from my fingertips, seeping into the cracks and crevices, strengthening the protective enchantments.

The stone vibrates, almost purring under my hands. This is unusual. Normally the stones accept my magic quietly, without reaction. Tonight they seem eager, almost greedy for the power I offer.

“Dorian?” Talia calls from across the grove. “Are your stones acting strange?”

I look up to see her standing beside a boundary marker that’s glowing with golden light. “Define strange.”

“They’re responding more than usual. Almost like they’re drinking the magic.” She places her hand on the stone again, and it illuminates brighter.

“Same here. The magic is flowing more freely tonight.”

I return to my work, moving from stone to stone around the western perimeter. Each marker responds more enthusiastically than the last, some even emitting soft musical tones when my magic connects with them. By the time I reach the northwestern corner, the stones are practically singing.

The sun dips below the horizon. Normally, I’d suggest we continue tomorrow since working after dark in a magical grove can be unpredictable, but I’m reluctant to leave.

“Should we call it a day?” she asks, meeting me at the northern point of the circle. Her scarf has shifted to a deep purple with gold flecks, and her eyes shine with the residual glow of her magic.

“We could,” I say slowly. “Or we could finish the northern section together. The stones seem to be responding well to our efforts.”

“I noticed that too.” She smiles, and something inside me warms at the sight. “They’re practically dancing with the magic.”

We kneel side by side before the largest boundary stone, a massive granite monolith carved with ancient symbols. Our shoulders brush as we both reach out to touch the stone. The contact sends a jolt through me, like lightning beneath my skin.

“Ready?” she asks, slightly breathless.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. We place our hands on the stone simultaneously, her warm brown fingers next to my gray stone ones. The effect is immediate and powerful.

Golden light from Talia’s magic meets my silvery gray power, twining together in spirals that sink into the boundary stone. The monolith hums, then glows with a brilliant white light that spreads outward, racing along the ground toward the other stones.

“What’s happening?” She gasps as the light connects with each boundary marker, creating a glowing circle around the entire grove.

“I’m not sure.” The magic continues to build. “I’ve never seen the stones react like this.”

The white light pulses twice, then shoots upward from each stone, forming a dome of shimmering energy over the grove. Inside this magical barrier, the air grows thick with power. The scent of petrichor mingles with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, her face upturned to watch the magical display.

I should be concerned about this unexpected development. Instead, I’m captivated by the way the light plays across her features, highlighting the curve of her cheek, and the fullness of her lips.

She turns to me, catching me staring. “Dorian?”

“We should check the rest of the grove,” I say quickly, standing and offering her my hand. “Make sure everything is stable.”

She takes my hand, and another surge of energy passes between us. This time, neither of us pulls away. Her fingers remain entwined with mine as we walk back toward the center of the grove.

The transformation is already underway. Grass that was merely green this morning now emits a soft, phosphorescent glow. Flowers that were budding have burst into full bloom, their petals luminescent in the gathering darkness. Even the trees seem more alive, their leaves rustling despite the still air.

“The magic is accelerating the growth.” I try to maintain a scientific detachment. “The restoration process is happening faster than we anticipated.”

“It’s not just faster,” says Talia, releasing my hand to touch a nearby flower. The blossom responds by glowing brighter and releasing a puff of golden pollen that hovers in the air like miniature stars. “It’s different. More vibrant. More...alive.”

She’s right. The grove isn’t just being restored to its former state. It’s evolving into something new. Something created by the unique combination of our magics.

We continue our inspection, moving deeper into the grove. With each step, more wonders reveal themselves. Mushrooms that pulse with blue-green light. Vines that twist and curl with deliberate patterns, forming intricate designs along tree trunks. Even the air itself seems charged with magic, tiny motes of light drifting like fireflies.

“This is incredible,” says Talia, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Neither have I, and I’ve been around for over five centuries.”

She laughs. “I keep forgetting how old you are.”

“Ancient,” I agree with a smile. “Practically a relic.”

“A very well-preserved relic,” she teases.

The air between us shifts, grows heavier with unspoken thoughts. I should look away, but I don’t.

A vine near our feet suddenly springs to life, curling around our ankles, not to trip us this time, but to draw us closer together. Talia stumbles forward, and I catch her by the waist.

“The plants are getting bold,” she says, resting her hands on my chest.

“They’re responding to the magic,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “To us.”

All around us, the grove pulses with increasing energy. The bioluminescent flowers glow brighter. The grass beneath our feet softens, becoming a carpet of velvety moss that emits a gentle radiance. Pollen lights float higher, creating a canopy of golden stars above our heads.

“I think this is what Grizelda was warning us about. The Mating Phase is affecting the grove.”

“And us,” I add, acutely aware of my hands still on her waist, of her warmth seeping through my stone skin.

“We should stop,” she says, though she makes no move to pull away. “Try to control it.”

I nod in agreement, but even as I do, I know it’s too late. The magic has built too much momentum, fed by our combined power and something primal and ancient that resonates with the season of renewal.

“I’m not sure we can stop it.” My wings unfurl slightly behind me, responding to my heightened emotions. “The magic wants to flow. Trying to dam it now might cause more harm than good.”

Talia’s scarf shifts to a deep crimson when she looks up at me. “So ,what do we do?”

The answer comes not from me, but from the grove itself. The ground beneath us trembles, and the moss grows thicker, forming a natural bed at the base of the largest tree. Vines curl protectively around this space, creating a private bower. The floating pollen lights drift lower, illuminating the area with a golden glow.

“I think,” I say slowly, “The grove is making its preferences clear.”

Talia’s laugh is nervous but genuine. “Subtle, it is not.”

My thumb traces small circles on her waist. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can leave and try to wait out the Mating Phase somewhere else.”

“Is that what you want?” she asks, staring into my eyes. “To leave?”

The question hangs between us, weighted with possibility. I should say yes. Should be the responsible one, the ancient guardian who knows better than to surrender to magical impulses. Five centuries of discipline and control urge me to step back, to put space between us.

Instead, I tell her the truth. “No,” I say simply. “I don’t want to leave.”

She slides her hands up my chest to my shoulders, then to the back of my neck. “Neither do I.”

The admission breaks a dam inside me holding back a century of loneliness and longing. I lower my head and capture her lips, no longer caring about propriety or the consequences tomorrow might bring.

She responds immediately, rising on her toes to press herself closer. Her lips are soft and warm against mine, tasting of honey and sunlight. I tighten my arms around her waist, lifting her slightly to better align our bodies.

The grove responds to our surrender. The bioluminescent blossoms pulse brighter, releasing more of their glowing pollen. The moss bed grows thicker and more inviting. Vines curl higher around our private bower, shielding us from the outside world.

I break the kiss only to trail my lips along her jaw and down the column of her throat. Talia sighs, her head falling back to grant me better access. She explores my shoulders, my chest, and the sensitive junction where my wings meet my back.

“Is this okay?” she asks, tracing her fingers down the edge of one wing.

“More than okay,” I say against her skin. My wings have always been sensitive, but her touch sends shockwaves of pleasure through my entire body.

I guide her backward toward the moss bed. When her legs meet the edge, she sits, pulling me down with her. The moss cradles us, surprisingly comfortable and warm. “You’re beautiful.” I brush a curl from her face. In the golden light of the grove, her brown skin glows with an inner radiance that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with her.

“So are you,” she says, tracing the contours of my face with gentle fingers. “Your eyes are doing that swirling thing again.”

I know what she means. When my emotions run high, the gold and orange striations in my eyes move faster, creating a vortex effect. Right now, they must be spinning like whirlpools. “Only for you,” I say, capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm.

She smiles, then reaches for the ties of her apron. “Help me with this?”

My stone fingers, usually so careful and controlled, tremble slightly as I untie her apron and lift it over her head. Beneath it, her floral sundress clings to her curves, the fabric thin enough that I can see the outline of her body in the magical light.

“Your turn,” she says, tugging at the hem of my sweater.

I pull it off, revealing the minimal enchanted armor I wear beneath. It’s a sleeveless tunic that leaves my arms bare. Talia hands immediately explores the exposed skin, tracing the patterns where stone meets armor.

“Can this come off too?” she asks, fingers finding the clasps at my shoulders.

“Yes.” I help her release the fastenings. The armor falls away, leaving my chest bare. Unlike human men, my torso is smooth stone, sculpted like a statue but warm and alive to the touch.

She tests this new territory with obvious fascination. “You’re so warm. I always thought stone would be cold.”

“Only when I’m alone, or during the last century, when my guardian magic had gone dormant. With you, everything is different.”

She reaches behind her neck, unfastening the top of her dress. The fabric falls forward, revealing her breasts, full and perfect in the golden light. More than a handful even for my large hands. I hold my breath and reach out, hesitating just before touching her. “May I?”

“Please,” she whispers.

I cup her breasts, capable of being gentle with my stone hands despite their appearance. Talia arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. I lower my head, replacing one hand with my mouth to taste her skin, drawing another moan from her while I flick my tongue against a swollen nipple.

All around us, the grove responds to our passion. The bioluminescent flowers pulse in rhythm with our heartbeats. The moss beneath us grows softer and more yielding, while the vines curl tighter around our bower, ensuring our privacy.

She rests her hands in my waistband. “I want to see all of you,” she says, dropping her voice to a husky whisper that sends a ripple through me. “Every inch.”

I moan as she pushes down my pants, and I lift my hips to help her slide them from my body. The cool air of the grove touches my cock, instantly making me harder as...stone.

“There,” I murmur as the last piece falls away.

I stand naked before her, revealed fully to her gaze. Unlike human males, my cock is unique. It’s still carved from the same living stone as the rest of me, but with subtle variations in texture where the gray deepens to charcoal at the most intimate areas. Fine lines run like veins through the stone, pulsing faintly with golden light that matches my eyes.

I watch her face carefully, scanning for any sign of disappointment or shock. My heart pounds beneath my chest as silence stretches between us. What must she think, seeing a lover so different from any she has known before?

Her eyes widen slightly, then fill with unmistakable desire. “You’re magnificent.” She breaches out to touch my shaft, trailing her fingers down it.

The contact sends a surge of pleasure through my body, making my wings flare wide. Talia smiles at the reaction, and her touch grows bolder and more exploratory.

“And you,” I say, my voice rough with need, “Are still wearing too much.”

She laughs and stands, letting her dress fall completely away. Finally, she sheds her practical white panties, and the sight of her naked in the magical light steals my breath, revealing curves and valleys I want to explore with hands and mouth, and skin I want to worship until she cries my name.

She returns to the moss bed, kneeling before me. “Now, we’re even.”

I pull her into my arms, rolling so that she lies beneath me with her dark curls spread across the glowing moss like a halo. “Not quite yet,” I murmur, trailing kisses down her body. “But we will be.”

My mouth and hands explore every inch of her, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan, what makes her call my name. Her skin tastes like sunshine and honey, addictive and perfect. When I reach her pussy, I look up, seeking permission.

“Yes,” she says, reading the question in my eyes. “Please, Dorian.”

I taste her then, plunging my tongue into her slit to find her most sensitive places. She tangles her hands tangle in my silver-white hair, guiding me to the right spots and encouraging me as her hips rise to meet me. The grove pulses around us with a rhythm that matches our own.

“Oh, god,” she whispers, her legs trembling against my shoulders. “Right there.”

I follow her guidance, savoring her sweetness while sucking on her clit and taking in her every reaction. Her breathing quickens as little gasps punctuate the night air. The magic of the grove seems to flow between us now, connecting us in ways I never thought possible as I lick her pussy and suck her clit lightly while she writhes and moans.

When she finally comes apart under my touch, she arches her back, crying out my name to the star-filled sky above. Her cream floods my mouth, and I lap eagerly. At that exact moment, the flowers surrounding our bower burst into spectacular bloom, releasing clouds of luminescent pollen that drift through the night air like fireflies.

She gasps, trailing her fingers down my face as she pulls me up for a deep, passionate kiss. Her eyes, when she finally opens them, reflect the magical glow all around us. “Incredible.”

“We’re just getting started,” I say, positioning myself above her and pressing my cock to her entrance. “If you’re sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything,” she says, wrapping her legs around my waist.

I enter her slowly, giving her time to adjust to my unique form. The sensation is overwhelming as the heat and pressure form a connection deeper than physical. Her eyes widen, and the golden rings around her irises glow brightly as our magics intertwine along with our bodies.

“Oh.” She exhales raggedly and grips my shoulders when I settle deeply into her pussy. “That’s...different. Good different.”

I remain still, letting her acclimate. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

She nods, then rolls her hips experimentally. The motion sends pleasure coursing through my shaft, making my wings shudder. “Now,” she says. “Please, now.”

I begin to move, establishing a rhythm that has her gasping with each thrust. I pull out almost entirely before plunging in deeply again, groaning at the way her inner walls clamp around my cock with each movement.

The grove responds to our union, the magic swirling around us in visible currents of gold and silver. The moss beneath us cradles our bodies while the vines above us weave tighter.

Talia moans, digging her nails into my stone shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.” When I increase my pace, spreading my wings wide to create a canopy over us both, the sensitive membranes catch the magical currents and amplify the sensations coursing through my body.

Our magics merge completely, gold and silver becoming one brilliant light that illuminates our bower as I continue pistoning in and out of her wet pussy. I can feel Talia’s pleasure as if it were my own and sense the building tension in her body, along with her approaching release as her walls spasm around me.

“Together,” I urge, feeling my own climax approaching. “Let go with me.”

She nods, her gaze locked with mine, the golden rings now so bright they nearly obscure the brown. Her pussy clamps tightly around me, pushing me closer to the edge as she starts to quiver.

When release comes, it crashes through us both simultaneously. Talia cries out my name, arching her back off the moss bed. I roar, my wings fully extended, shuddering with pleasure more intense than anything I’ve experienced in five centuries of existence.

The grove explodes with magic. Every flower blooms at once, releasing clouds of luminescent pollen. The grass glows so brightly it rivals daylight. The boundary stones pulse with power, strengthening the protective dome around us. The earth itself seems to sigh in satisfaction, cradling us in its embrace.

Slowly, the intensity fades, leaving us wrapped in each other’s arms, our bodies still joined, our breathing gradually returning to normal. I shift to the side, careful not to crush Talia with my weight, but keep her close against me.

“That was...” she begins, then laughs softly. “I don’t even have words.”

“Magical?” I suggest, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Literally,” she agrees, gesturing at the transformed grove around us. “I think we just supercharged the entire restoration process.”

She’s right. The grove has changed dramatically in the span of our lovemaking. Plants that were merely sprouting this morning now stand fully grown. Flowers that were budding have bloomed into magnificent blossoms that glow with inner light. Even the ancient tree above us seems rejuvenated, its bark smoother, with its leaves fuller and more vibrant.

“We should probably be more scientific about this,” I say, though I make no move to get up. “Document the changes and analyze the magical signatures.”

Talia laughs, snuggling closer against my chest. “Later. Right now, I just want to enjoy this moment.”

I wrap my wing around her like a blanket, sheltering her from the cool night air. “As you wish.”

We lie together in comfortable silence, watching the floating pollen lights dance above us. The vines that formed our bower have relaxed somewhat, though they still provide privacy. The moss beneath us remains soft and warm, conforming to our bodies like the world’s most perfect mattress.

Eventually, Talia’s breathing deepens and evens out as she drifts to sleep in my arms. I watch her face, peaceful in slumber, and marvel at how quickly she’s changed my world. A week ago, I was alone in my chapel, convinced solitude was my destiny. Now I hold this vibrant, magical woman against my heart, and I can’t imagine returning to that lonely existence.

I close my eyelids, allowing myself to rest. For the first time in centuries, I feel no need to maintain vigilance, and no fear of what might happen if I let down my guard. The grove protects us, the earth cradles us, and Talia’s warmth anchors me to this perfect moment.

When I wake, sunlight filters through the vine canopy, casting dappled patterns across our moss bed. Talia still sleeps beside me, her curls wild around her face, her lips curved in a slight smile. I resist the urge to wake her with kisses, content to simply watch her for a moment.

Something catches my attention. It’s a glint of light near our feet. I shift carefully, trying not to disturb Talia as I investigate. There, nestled in the moss where our legs entwine, sits another egg, larger and more ornate than the previous ones that seem to have merged to form it, because they’re nowhere in sight. I somehow sense this is the final one. Its surface swirls with gold and silver patterns that match the combined magic Talia and I created last night.