Page 123 of Night Fae

"And what language doyouunderstand now?"

Zev turned to him, suddenly aware of how close they stood, of the bright thread of connection between them that had saved not just worlds, but Zev himself from dissolution.

"I'm still learning," he admitted, his voice low enough that only Malik could hear. "But I understand this." He raised their joined hands slightly, indicating the bond between them.

Around them, the others were beginning to gather their strength, discussing plans for returning to the Shadow Palace. But Zev savored the moment—standing in the aftermath of destruction with someone who had seen his darkness and stayed anyway.

"What now?" Malik asked.

Zev drew him close. "Now we forge our own path ahead."

CHAPTER 27

The journey back to the Shadow Palace passed in a blur of exhaustion.

After the chaos at the Barrier Temple settled, they'd gathered their strength and made camp for the night in a clearing just beyond the temple grounds. No one had the energy for the full journey back immediately. Malik had slept deeply for the first time in what felt like months, pressed close to Zev.

When dawn broke, they found the landscape transformed. Where reality had been fracturing just a day before, now the world seemed more vivid, more stable.

The unnatural auroras were gone from the sky, and when they rode through the woods, Malik thought the air smelled clean and full of promise.

Villagers emerged from hiding here and there, staring at them in wonder. Word had already begun to spread: the Shadow King and his allies had repaired the broken world.

By the time they drew close to Caelen's palace, people lined the roads, offering food and drink to the returning heroes.

"I wasn't expecting this," Malik commented quietly to Zev as a young fae child presented them with a crown of silver flowers.

"Wear it proudly," Zev replied with a half-mocking smile that was full of warmth.

Malik did as he was told.

When they reached the palace gates, Caelen made an announcement: a victory feast would be held that night. "We've earned this," he told them all, his arm around Daniel's shoulders. "Our moment of glory."

Knox didn't seem convinced of this plan, but before anyone could grumble too much, servants whisked them away to chambers prepared with hot baths and fresh clothing. Healers checked their wounds and offered potions for recovery. Within hours, the palace got ready for a celebration.

Despite his exhaustion, Malik found himself swept up in the excitement of it all. After all they'd been through, a chance to simply breathe—to celebrate being alive—felt not just welcome but necessary.

That night, the great hall of the Shadow Palace sparkled with more light than seemed possible given its name, hundreds of crystal orbs suspended from the ceiling containing dancing magefire in shifting colors.

Music drifted through the air, a hopeful melody that spoke of their victory. Malik couldn't locate where it was coming from, even though he sat at one of the high tables overlooking the hall.

Whoever was playing, though, it was beautiful. Everything here was.

Malik could hardly believe how much his life had changed in so short a time.

"Is something wrong?" Zev asked, sat by his side. "You haven't touched your wine."

"No." Malik picked up his glass. "Just lost in thought."

Zev's eyes softened, and Malik felt the warmth of their connection humming between them, their mate bond a constant reassurance.

"Too much to process?" Zev asked quietly.

"A little," Malik agreed. "Mostly I'm wondering what happens next."

Before Zev could answer, a commotion erupted at the entrance to the hall.

Lyrian strode in, resplendent in shimmering aquamarine formal wear that matched his hair. Behind him tottered a diminutive elderly woman with the same aquatic coloring but weathered like driftwood left too long in the sun. Her white hair was arranged in elaborate coils studded with pearls, and despite her age, she moved with surprising vigor.