The air of the Moors buzzed with life as Fey folk and humans came together for the first time in centuries without weapons drawn. The war was over, peace declared, and the land seemed to breathe again. Flowers glowed softly in the twilight, their bioluminescence casting an otherworldly light. Glittering Fey danced alongside their human counterparts, laughter rising like a song of freedom.

Dark Fey children soared above, their wings shimmering as they darted through the air, their laughter echoing through the trees. Below, their elders circled a great bonfire, shadows dancing wildly in the golden glow. Humans joined with garlands of flowers and radiant smiles, their hands entwined with those of the Light Fey.

And yet, Borra stood apart.

Leaning against a gnarled tree, his wings folded tight, his sharp eyes scanned the gathering but always returned to one person—her. Dawn, Queen Aurora’s younger sister, seated near the Queen, laughing softly with Diaval as they shared a meal.

Dawn’s beauty rivaled Aurora’s, though differently. Where Aurora was ethereal, like moonlight on a calm lake, Dawn was fire and earth—radiant yet grounded. Her golden hair, loose and flowing, caught the bonfire’s light as though spun from sunlight. Her unguarded laughter tugged at something in Borra’s chest he hadn’t felt before.

He clenched his jaw, taloned fingers scraping the bark of the tree.

How could this be?

For years, hatred for humans had been as natural to him as the air he breathed. Humans were destroyers—liars, thieves, killers. They had taken everything. And yet, here he was, unable to look away from one of them.

It was wrong. Foolish. And yet… it didn’t feel the same.

The war was over. Humans and Fey had forged a fragile peace. For the first time in his life, Borra wondered if the hatred in his heart could finally be let go. Could he see them as Aurora did?

Perhaps this was what peace meant—not just the end of battle, but the chance to start anew. To see the world differently.