The house smelled like fried bread and honey. Sunlight streamed through the windows, glinting off the kettle and stretching across the floor where Tau and Kaja sprawled—one in a patch of sun, the other halfway beneath the table, nudging Lyra’s boot.

Hassian moved at the stove with practiced ease, shirtless, dreadlocks damp and clinging to the back of his neck. He flipped the last piece of bread onto a plate and brought it over, setting it in front of Lyra without a word. She arched a brow. “Domestic now, are we?”

He didn’t answer. Just poured her tea and finally sat across from her, eyes calm but watchful.

Lyra picked at her plate. “I suppose I have to meet with Subira this morning.”

“No,” Hassian said softly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If it’s causing you that much stress, just don’t go.”

“I told her I would,” Lyra replied, sighing. “I guess I should hear what she wants.”

“I don't suppose it will hurt to hear what she has to say,” he said, tilting his head. “But don’t let her intimidate you. You’re smart, Lyra. You can handle her, easy.”

“If I was smart, I’d go live in the forest until she leaves,” she muttered, half in jest.

“The Grove is there for us whenever we want,” he reminded her.

Lyra smiled. “Keep it on standby.”

Hassian nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Kaja gave a whine at Lyra’s side, tail wagging furiously. Lyra bent down, holding a small piece of bread just out of reach.

“She already had a whole bowl of chappa meat,” Hassian said, brow raised.

Kaja looked at him, then back at Lyra, as if daring her to give more. Lyra chuckled. “You little schemer. You want more, don’t you?”

The hound gave a soft growl of triumph, gently nipping at her fingers.

“That is called being played,” Hassian said, amusement in his voice.

Lyra rolled her eyes but grinned. “Fine, you win this round.” She set the bread near Kaja and straightened, giving the hound a final pat.

She picked up her bag and moved toward the door. Hassian followed, resting a hand briefly on her shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “Just stay safe.”

Lyra nodded, slipping her hand into his for a moment before stepping outside.

Subira’s Room

Lyra knocked once before the door swung open.

“Thank you for coming,” Subira said at once, stepping aside to let her in.

The inn’s upper rooms were modest, but Subira had already made the space hers. Her travel case was neatly tucked beside the wardrobe, a leather-bound journal open on the writing desk, and a bundle of neatly folded Order robes rested on the bed. She wore a simpler outfit now—still structured, still precise—but less ceremonial than the attire from the welcome party. Her expression was calm, composed, but not unfriendly.

“I appreciate your time,” she said. “There’s an official announcement coming, but I wanted you to hear it from me first. The Order has voted to formally accept humans into the Republic. Along with that comes a renewed commitment to investigating what happened to your civilization.”

Lyra crossed her arms, leaning slightly against the wall. “Took them long enough.”

Subira smiled faintly. “It’s been just over a year, hasn’t it? A blink in the scale of history, but I imagine it hasn’t felt that way to those living it.”

“No,” Lyra said simply. “It hasn’t.”

“I’ve heard you’ve done some work with Jina,” Subira continued. “Your name comes up in her reports quite a bit.”

“I’ve helped her try to figure things out in the ruins as much as I could.” Lyra answered.

Subira gave a small nod. “If I end up needing help—field support, local insight—would you be willing to work with me as well?”

Lyra hesitated. She didn’t want to say yes. Didn’t want to be drawn into schemes beyond her home, beyond her life with Hassian. But… a quiet sense of responsibility stirred anyway.

“If Jina’s involved—and it helps the people here—then yes.”

Subira studied her, not unkindly. “I see. And are you not… personally interested? In your past?”

“Human civilization?” Lyra said. “Sure. That’s history. It's worth understanding.”

Subira tilted her head. “And your own story? Who you were?”

Lyra’s arms tightened a little across her chest. “No.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because that life is gone,” Lyra said evenly. “Whoever I was, whatever I did—it doesn’t matter now. This is my life. Right here. Right now. That’s all that counts.”

There was a long pause between them. Subira nodded slowly, her gaze dropping briefly, as if weighing something.

“Your pin,” she said, glancing at the delicate carving over Lyra’s heart. “The hunter?”

Lyra’s expression softened just a little. “Yes.”

“I haven’t heard of many human–Majiri relationships yet.”

“I suppose we’re… unique,” Lyra said carefully.

“That’s wonderful,” Subira said. “Relationships of that kind are forbidden in the Order.”

Lyra lifted a brow. “Sounds lonely.”

“It can be,” Subira admitted. “But it keeps our service pure.”

Lyra didn’t say anything to that.

Subira gave her a small smile. “You seem to have built something solid here.”

Lyra finally smiled, just a little. “We have, and I’ll fight to my last breath to keep it.”

There was a brief pause, not tense, just thoughtful.

“I imagine it must change how you see things,” Subira said. “Having someone. A life that matters to you.”

“It does,” Lyra said quietly. “It’s what matters most.”

Subira nodded, as if she understood. “I trust you’ll stay true to the life you’ve built here.”

Lyra inclined her head in thanks, a quiet assurance passing between them. No further words were needed. She stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking softly shut behind her. A gentle breeze drifted through the open windows at the far end of the corridor, carrying the scent of sea air and sun-warmed stone. For a moment she stood still, letting the weight of the conversation settle.

The world was changing again. But she knew who she was now.
And she knew who was waiting for her at home.

Comfort of Home

When Lyra returned home, she found Hassian in the garden, kneeling beside a row of sprouting plants, the sunlight glinting on his dark hair and the polished pin over his heart. Tau and Kaja lounged nearby, stretching in the sun.

“You’re back,” Hassian said, eyes scanning her face. “Everything alright?”

Lyra smiled faintly. “She was… formal. Friendly. Told me there’s an official announcement coming. The Order has voted to accept humans into the Republic. Apparently, they’re also committed to figuring out what happened to our old civilization.”

He paused, taking a breath. “That’s… a relief.”

She tilted her head, curious. “Yeah?”

Hassian turned to face her fully, his hand brushing the back of his neck like he always did when flustered. “I wasn’t sure if us being together would get complicated. You know… legally. If the Republic didn’t recognize you, I didn’t know what that meant for things like marriage.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, catching his slight hesitation. “You weren’t sure if we could get married… but you asked me anyway?”

He met her gaze evenly. “I love you. I want you to be my wife. If we had to settle for just a ceremony with Chayne, that would have been enough for me—but I’m glad it will be legal.”

“I love you too. You big softy,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said with a wink.

Lyra let a small laugh escape, the tension in her chest loosening.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, voice quiet.

“I… think so,” she admitted, stepping closer. “I told her I’d help if she needed it, but I don’t want to get drawn in. I’d rather stay here. Live our life.”

Hassian reached out, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Then do that. You don’t owe the Order anything, Lyra. And I won’t let anyone put you in danger.”

Something soft bloomed in her eyes as she let him take her hand. “Always trying to protect me, hunter?”

“Always,” he said, drawing her closer. She pressed her cheek to his chest, letting herself breathe in the warmth and reassurance of him.

“All I want is for you to stay safe,” he murmured.

“I always do,” she whispered back, and this time, it felt true—not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

The garden hummed with life around them—the gentle sway of leaves, the low rustle of plumehound fur, the sunlight catching on Hassian’s hair. Whatever the future held, Lyra knew she had roots here, and someone steadfast to share them with. And that was enough, for now.