The morning sun spilled softly through the kitchen windows, glinting off the glass panels and warming the tile floor beneath their bare feet. The smell of eggs, fried mushrooms, and sweetbread filled the air. Kaja lay stretched out by the door, her head lazily lifting every time Lyra moved. Tau was outside guarding the garden, but the quiet felt comfortable—not empty.

Lyra was halfway through her second slice of bread when she nudged Hassian’s foot beneath the table. “There aren’t enough ogopuu in Mitana Grove to keep us busy anymore.”

He lifted a brow, chewing. “Too easy?”

“Too scarce,” she corrected. “And yes, too easy. You mentioned a couple other areas we could work up to—ones with bigger packs. Do you think we’re ready?”

He smiled as he leaned back in his chair. “Yes, baby. I’ll take you guys over there.”

She grinned. “Yeah?”

“If it’s okay with you,” he added, “I’d like to tag along the first few times. Make sure you all get the lay of the place. It’s a much larger area, and I’d rather not toss you straight in. Plus…” He glanced at her sideways. “I can finally introduce you to the shmoles.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ve heard about them but I thought they were made up.”

He chuckled. “Nope. They’re real. Grumpy little things. You’ll like them.”

“I do like grumpy things and you’re always welcome with us,” she said. “Why’d you ask that way?”

Hassian rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t want to embarrass you. Wasn’t sure if your friends looked at it like I was keeping tabs on you. Acting like your father or something.”

Lyra nearly choked on her tea. “What? No! They think it’s sweet. They’ll think it’s a special treat if you come. Nobody teases me.well… they do but we all tease each other.” She smirked. “And besides, they already know I call you ‘daddy’-- in bed anyway.”

Hassian burst out laughing, setting his cup down before he spilled it. “You’re hilarious.”

She took a sip with faux innocence.

“Wait. Did you actually tell them that?”

She only smiled.

He shook his head, still grinning. “That’s a conversation for another day. Today, we’ve got other things to tend to.”

“Oh?” Lyra leaned her chin on her hand. “Like what?”

“Are we going to get married, or stay engaged ‘til we’re old and decrepit?” He tilted his head. “Because if we’re getting married, we’ve got a wedding to plan.”

She blinked. Her mouth parted, but no words came at first. He kept going, his tone casual but sincere.

“Now that humans are officially part of the Republic, we can go to city hall and get a marriage license. We’ll need to talk to Chayne about performing the ceremony. Pick a date. A location. Rings. And I’m sure you’re going to want a dress…” He stopped, breathless. “You deserve a dress.”
Then he exhaled a long breath and muttered, “I think I just overwhelmed myself.”

Lyra rose from her chair and crossed to him, sliding into his lap like it was the only place in the world meant for her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He kissed the back of her hand. “I love you too.”

They sat there for a quiet beat, warmth and sunlight wrapping around them like a second blanket. Then he murmured, “First stop’s city hall. But after that… we’ve got a lot to do.”

“Wow,” she said softly, tilting his chin so he’d look at her. “You’ve thought about everything.”

“Of course I have.” His voice dropped, a little teasing. “I’m the grown-up responsible one.”

She grinned. “You are, daddy.”

He groaned. “Do not—”

But she kissed him. Once. Twice. Three times.

Then he relented with a smirk. “Save it for the bedroom.”

Preparations

Later that morning, after a breakfast still scented with eggs and toast, they began the first of several stops to make their marriage official.

Lyra hadn’t realized how quickly planning could take shape. Each errand felt like a step forward, a thread pulled tight between them, weaving something bigger than either had held before.

It started with a smile from Kenyatta. Which, in itself, was something of a miracle.

Kenyatta had looked up at Lyra and Hassian as they stepped into the building, eyes narrowing. But the moment Lyra said, “We’d like to apply for a marriage license,” something cracked. Kenyatta beamed. . “I finally get to do something interesting today,” she said. She practically gushed as she pulled the forms, ushered them through the paperwork, and signed the bottom with a flourish that could’ve belonged to a bard.

“I knew it,” she said, sealing the document. “About time.”

Their second stop had been the shrine.

Chayne, with his gentle manner and always-too-knowing eyes, didn’t look surprised in the slightest. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, then smiled when Lyra blinked. “It’s not magic. You two practically sparkle around each other.” He agreed to officiate—gladly—but asked for a few private talks beforehand. “Not because I doubt you,” he added. “But because it matters. More than anything else I do.”

The third stop -The forge rang with the familiar clang of steel, the smell of heated metal sharp in the air. Sifuu looked up from her workbench as they entered, wiping her hands on a thick cloth.

“What are you two up to today?” she asked.

“We came to place an order,” Hassian said, tone mild, though his hand brushed lightly against Lyra’s back.

“Oh?” Sifuu tilted her head. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re going to need a couple of rings,” Hassian said. “Simple gold bands. Mine engraved with Lyra. Hers with Hassian. The date we met etched on the inside.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Sifuu dropped the cloth and surged forward, sweeping them both into a forge-dusted hug that lifted Lyra clean off the ground.

“You two!” she laughed. “I knew this was coming, but stars, hearing it out loud—” She pulled back, eyes bright. “You’re going to make each other crazy, but you’ll be happy. And yes, of course I’ll make them.”

They left with her still muttering about gold weight and sizing.

Lyra’s heart was buoyant, full of steel dust and laughter. Every stop made it feel more real, and she couldn’t help thinking—this is what forever looks like. One piece at a time, all their friends helping lay the foundation.

As they walked hand-in-hand down the main road toward Jel’s shop, Subira stepped out of the Inn just as they were passing.

She paused when she saw them, then smiled. “I was actually coming to find you,” she said, addressing Lyra. “Do you have a moment to talk in private?”

Lyra hesitated, her fingers tightening briefly around Hassian’s.
“We’re planning our wedding,” she said. “Could it wait?”

Surprise flickered across Subira’s face, then something warmer. “Congratulations,” she said sincerely. “That’s… truly wonderful.”

Lyra softened. “Thank you.”

“I won’t take long,” Subira promised. “I just need a word, and then you can get back to your very well-deserved happiness.”

Lyra glanced at Hassian, a silent question passing between them.

He kissed her temple. “Go ahead. I’ll wait—I can’t wait to tell Reth anyway.”

Lyra gave his hand a quick squeeze, then turned to Subira with a nod. “Alright.”

Subira led the way up to her room, the quiet shifting around them like a closed curtain.

Subira closed the door to her room with a soft click, then turned the lock.

Lyra glanced at her, eyebrows rising. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Subira’s expression remained serious, cutting through any humor. “I don’t want to be overheard. What I’m about to tell you… I’m trusting you with it.”

Lyra nodded, folding her hands in her lap.

“There’s an underground market operating in Killima,” Subira began. “I believe the cartel is moving Flow items through it. Quietly, and with local help.”

Lyra’s stomach tightened. She didn’t move.

Subira studied her. “Have you heard anything about this?”

“I’ve heard… things.” Lyra hesitated, gaze flicking toward the window. “But nothing solid.”

She hated the lie. She’d been there more times than she could count. She knew Zeki ran the place. And she knew Reth worked there—at night, when few were watching. And she knew Flow was definitely moving through there.

Subira leaned forward slightly. “I think you could get closer than I ever could. You’re accepted here. Trusted. If there’s something happening beneath the surface, you’re the best one to find out.”

The request shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. Lyra swallowed, heart aching. Reth wasn’t just working the market for fun—he was trying to keep his sister alive. Tish’s illness had no cure, but Flow… Flow was keeping her stable. The barrette in her hair wasn’t just an accessory. It was a lifeline.

Still, Lyra nodded. “Alright. I’ll look into it.”

Subira’s expression softened. “Thank you.”

Downstairs

Reth was wiping down the bar talking to Hassian when Lyra came down the stairs. He spotted her, straightened a little.
A grin tugged at his mouth. “Hassian told me the news,” he said, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “Congrats.”

Lyra smiled. “Thanks, Reth.”

He gave a small shrug, eyes flicking between them. “Guess I never stood a chance. Chopping vegetables doesn’t exactly compete with spearing wild beasts at dawn.”

Hassian didn’t smile, but there was something in his eyes—quiet and unreadable—that made Reth look away first.

“Well,” Reth added, “wish you both the best.”

Lyra nodded, and with a brief parting smile, she turned to go. Hassian followed her out without a word.

Once they were outside, Hassian glanced her way.

“I like him better now,” he said.

Lyra snorted. “Why? Because he gave up?”

“Because he was smart enough to.”

After the brief encounter at the Inn, Lyra and Hassian made their way to Jel’s boutique. Lyra didn’t need much time—she already knew what she wanted.

The vision had taken root in her mind weeks ago, soft and certain. A dress not meant for grandeur but for warmth. Flowing and unstructured, the color of sun-warmed clouds, sleeveless but modest, something that breathed summer and sincerity.

Jel had listened, sketching as she spoke, his hands graceful and sure. He’d smiled at the end, murmuring that she’d glow in it. Lyra had smiled back, already feeling a little like she might.

Hassian hadn’t said much, only stood with his arms folded, but when she caught him watching her, his eyes held a softness she rarely saw outside their home. Like the very thought of her in that dress made it impossible for him to breathe. It was enough.

Satisfied, they left Jel’s with a sketch tucked under Lyra’s arm, the vision of the dress already warming her thoughts as they walked home hand in hand.