Chapter 68

I sang softly to Serah, my voice low and steady as her wounds slowly knit closed. I wasn’t a healer like Mirri - every note took effort, every breath pulled from reserves I barely had left. By the time I finished, the exhaustion of the battle, the chaos of the Interstitium, and the emptiness where my mana should have been settled over me like a crushing weight.

Serah was still injured, but she had enough strength now to shift - her vast draconic form folding inward until she stood once more as her long-legged, crimson-haired self, beautiful even in pain.

I checked on Elise next. She had returned to the library. The tower itself had taken a beating - collapsed stone, shattered floors - but the library had survived. Dirt streaked her clothes. Tears streaked her pale cheeks. Her head rested on a table, white hair hanging loose around her face. Her skin was flushed, her light eyes swollen and unfocused. She looked… lost. Fragile in a way I’d never seen her before.

I offered to bring her back with us.

She shook her head. Her master would return eventually. Someone would have to explain what had happened here.

I nodded. I understood. I told her I’d come back tomorrow to check on her, and she gave a small, tired acknowledgment.

Then I gathered the others and stepped us home.

The courtyard was wrecked. One wall was cracked clean through. Another had been crushed beneath the weight of a dragon’s body. Cobblestones were split and blackened, fused together by heat. The gate and front doors were scorched, wood burned down to charcoal.

Beyond the walls, trees lay toppled and smoldering, and two more dragon corpses marked the land like fallen mountains.

The children were safe.

That was all that mattered.

Torvek stood at the base of the stairs leading to the basement, planted there like a wall. The others huddled behind him - tear-streaked, shaken, terrified - until they saw us. Then relief broke through fear, and they rushed forward all at once.

I stepped to Reedwatch, collected Grams, and brought her back without a word. She went to work immediately, tending wounds with practiced hands and sharp focus. I sat on the floor nearby, my back against the wall, and watched her work until exhaustion finally dragged me under.

When I woke, evening light slanted through the windows. Lilae and Mirri were curled up against me, one on either side, their small bodies warm and solid. I carefully lifted them both and carried them to our room, tucking them in side by side beneath the blankets.

Serah and Ashlara were asleep in the common room - Serah curled in a chair beneath a blanket, Ashlara stretched out on the couch like she’d simply collapsed where she stood. Their breathing was slow and steady.

Alive. Healing.

I found the others in the dining room. Grams had cooked dinner. The children sat together, eating quietly. There was no laughter, no chatter - but there was something else. A closeness. A shared gravity that bound them together.

They trusted each other.

They protected each other.

They were stronger together.

Grams caught my eye and motioned me into the kitchen.

“Sit down, Seth,” she said.

It was the first time she’d ever used my name.

I sat at the small table in the corner.

“Mirri adores you,” she said flatly. “So does Lilae. You’ve given me several wonderful grandchildren - even if they’re not by blood. For that, I’m grateful.”

Her eyes never left mine.

“But things need to change,” she continued. “I can’t keep showing up to patch people back together. And those kids can’t grow up in a place where dragons drop in every other week to burn it down.”

Her voice hardened.

“You might be immortal. They’re not. Do what you have to do - but settle this. If I lose anyone here because of you, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

She held my gaze for a long moment, then turned away as if the conversation were over.

“Now go eat dinner,” she said, brisk and ordinary, like she hadn’t just laid the weight of the world at my feet.

* * *

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE MYRDDIN WAS DESTROYED?”

The Lady’s scream tore across the floating island. Her hands were closed around Lunythera’s throat, fingers digging in as the constellations of her face erupted into furious supernovas. Ink spilled violently across her parchment-like skin, sketching jagged sigils of pain and annihilation as raw power and incandescent rage poured from her in equal measure.

Lunythera clawed at the grip, her slender hands useless against the yellowed fingers locked like a steel cage. Her long black hair brushed the stone as her golden, lantern-bright eyes flickered, dimming with every strained breath.

With a snarl, the Lady hurled her aside. Lunythera hit the ground hard. The Lady turned away, stalking to the edge of the island, staring out over the vastness where auroras of raw Faith drifted lazily through the deep blue void.

Lunythera coughed, clutching her throat as she dragged air back into her lungs. “S-somehow,” she rasped, flinching as the Lady’s nebulous gaze slid back to her, “Seth returned from the Interstitium. He… he destroyed it.”

The Lady’s face seethed - plasma boiling, stars collapsing and reigniting beneath translucent skin.

“Brand was a disappointment to the very end.” The words on her skin etched themselves slowly now, each letter carved with deliberate cruelty. “There is nothing I despise more than disappointment.”

“We can still recover,” Lunythera said, desperation edging her voice. “War among the mortals is still brewing. The veil may yet be breached. The Myrddin can still be released. We can-”

“No.” The Lady’s voice was sharp and final. “We will find another way.” The Lady turned fully, her steps measured as she approached the kneeling goddess. “I will not allow disappointment to bar my path.”

She knelt and gently cupped Lunythera’s cheek. For an instant, compassion radiated from the touch - warm, almost tender.

Then her other hand drove forward.

It plunged into Lunythera’s chest up to the elbow. Though Lunythera’s form was slight, the Lady’s arm did not emerge from the other side. Black veins spidered outward from the wound, crawling across luminous flesh, dimming moonlight to ash.

Lunythera’s eyes went wide. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as shock and agony twisted her features. Her body began to crumble, flesh breaking apart into drifting motes of pale moonlight that scattered through the still air until nothing remained.

The Lady straightened, her expression settling into something cold and intent.

“I will not let disappointment stop me from my goal,” she repeated.

She inhaled sharply, drawing the last lingering motes into herself.

“I will be the goddess of everything.”

* * *

The next morning I made pancakes for everyone. I even stepped briefly to Northgate to buy strawberries and cream - because if you’re going to do pancakes, you do them right.

The children and Grams gathered in the dining room first, followed shortly by Ashlara. Her wounds had healed, but there was still a sluggishness to her movements, like her body hadn’t quite forgiven yesterday yet. A few minutes later Mirri and Lilae shuffled in, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Serah came last, wrapped in her blanket despite the warmth of the room, clutching it around her shoulders like a shield.

There were smiles. Quiet jokes. Easy conversation. Anyone watching from the outside might have thought nothing had happened at all.

But the weight of yesterday sat heavy in my chest, and Grams’ words echoed no matter how normal we pretended things were.

After breakfast, I took the last plate of pancakes and stepped to Elise’s library. I figured hot food might help after the chaos of the day before.

I found her standing at the doors to the great library. Three men in robes - each a different color - occupied the hall outside while Elise barred their entry from just within. Their eyes flicked toward me briefly before returning to the void-mage.

I set the plate down on a nearby table and approached, stopping a respectful distance away. I wouldn’t interrupt - but I wasn’t going to leave her alone, either.

“My lady,” said the man in red robes, “I assure you Master Edevane has been dead for over ten years. Have you truly remained here all this time?”

He was human, likely in his sixties. His steel-gray beard hung to mid-chest, thick and unruly, while his eyebrows were long and bushy enough to cast shadows over sharp eyes. The contrast to his bald scalp was striking.

“My master will return,” Elise said. Her posture was rigid, her voice steady and unyielding. “I have not been discharged from my duties. I will remain until he does.”

“My child,” said the man in deep purple, stepping forward with an indulgent smile, “the tower is badly damaged. It’s unsafe. We will provide a secure location for you and the books.” He gestured vaguely behind him. “Should your master return, you may simply explain that the relocation was necessary for preservation. Surely he would understand.”

He was rounder than the others, his face fuller than his body suggested. Sweat beaded along his temples despite the cold air creeping in from outside. His small eyes darted nervously as he spoke.

“Not a single book will leave this library while I watch over it,” Elise replied. Her tone was proud. Final.

The third man - dressed in black - cleared his throat. He appeared younger than the others, perhaps fifty, with slicked-back dark hair and sharp, calculating eyes.

“Gentlemen, we are done here,” he said calmly. “We must report the Myrddin to the council and king.”

“Of course, Master Crowhurst,” the man in purple said quickly.

They turned and left. Elise shut the doors firmly behind them.

She leaned back against the wood, shoulders sagging as the tension finally drained from her. When her eyes met mine, I saw how pale she was - darker circles beneath her eyes, exhaustion written into every line of her face. She looked fragile.

“Hug?” I asked, holding my arms out.

She tilted her head, brow furrowing as she processed the word.

“You look tired,” I added gently. “I thought you could use one.”

“Why would I desire to be squeezed?” she asked. I froze. Lowered my arms. Stared at her.

“Have you never had a hug before?”

“I have read about them, but I do not understand why a gesture of affection would be of use in this situation,” she replied. A pause. “Are you attempting to court me?”

“I- no. I mean, I’m not averse to it. But that’s not my intention.” I ran a hand through my hair. “That’s… that’s really sad. Hugs aren’t just for courting. They’re for comfort. Empathy. Safety. Joy. Mothers hug their children. Friends hug each other. Lovers do too, sure - but it’s not only that.”

She stayed silent, head still tilted as she absorbed my words.

“I would like to hug you,” I said carefully. “Will you allow it?”

She considered this for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. She pushed herself off the door and stepped toward me, stopping inches away - so close it made me acutely aware of every breath I took. She stood stiff as a board.

I’d never been this nervous about a hug in my life.

Slowly, I wrapped my arms around her and drew her in. I rested my head against her shoulder. My grip was firm, steady - not tight. Her heart hammered so hard I could feel it through her chest.

After a moment, she tentatively wrapped her arms around me, mimicking the motion.

We stayed like that only briefly before I eased back, hands sliding to her arms as I let go.

“How was that?” I asked.

“Strange,” she said honestly.

“We can do it again sometime,” I offered. “If you want.”

“I will consider it,” she replied.

I nodded, then gestured toward the table. “Would you like breakfast? I made pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.”

Her eyes lit up.