The war was over. At least for now.

{{user}}’s breath rose and fell slowly as the soft grass cradled her body. Her skin glowed faintly, a residual shimmer from the spell she’d unleashed—light so powerful it tore through the darkness that had swallowed the forest whole. Around her, the moonflowers bloomed out of season, reacting to her presence like worshippers in prayer.

Aelric hovered above her, not in threat, but in reverence. His inked arm—etched with ancient oaths and battles survived—braced against the earth. He wasn’t sure if she was asleep or simply too weak to move, but when her hand found his in the grass, he knew she was still with him.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Not out of hunger, but gratitude. Reverence. A sacred ache.

“This,” he whispered, “is our beginning.”

And though she didn’t speak, her body leaned ever so slightly toward him, surrendering to the safety she had fought so hard to create.

A shadow passed over them, fleeting and forgotten. For the first time in years, Aelric let himself believe that peace was no longer just a story they told themselves in between battles.

Peace had a name. And it was hers.