The last rays of sun stretched long across the backyard, dipping gold into everything—the grass, the path stones, the garden still warm from the day’s heat. Hassian stood by the grill with a practiced hand, turning thick sernuk steaks while Tau lay sprawled nearby in the shade, ears twitching every time the meat sizzled. Kaja chased lantern bugs nearby.

Lyra stepped outside, balancing bowls of fried potatoes and corn on the cob with practiced ease. She was barefoot and smiling, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders.

“Dinner’s up,” she announced, placing the dishes on the outdoor table beside the conservatory.

Hassian glanced over his shoulder. “Perfect timing.”

“Always,” she said, winking.

He brought the steaks over a moment later, and the two of them settled into a quiet dinner as the sky turned indigo above them. Lantern bugs blinked lazily at the edge of the garden, and the conservatory’s glass caught the last hints of orange light like glowing ember stone.

“These potatoes are dangerous,” Hassian muttered between bites.

Lyra grinned. “Because they’re so good?”

“No. Because I’d fight someone for the last one.”

She leaned forward, plucked one from his plate, and popped it in her mouth with a smug little hum.

He squinted. “That was a declaration of war.”

“Consider me armed.”

They laughed, the kind of easy, familiar laughter that came from hundreds of nights just like this—peaceful, shared, anchored in their Nest.

When the plates were cleared, Hassian returned with a folded piece of paper in one hand, his fingers smudged faintly with charcoal.

“What’s that?” she asked as he sat beside her, close enough that their knees touched.

He unfolded the paper and handed it to her. “I was sketching earlier. Saraya’s table idea stuck in my head. This just... came to me.”

Lyra unfolded it carefully, her breath catching at the sight. The sketch showed a long wooden table, rough-hewn but elegant, with bark still lining the edges. The legs were sturdy but curved in an artistic arch, designed for strength and beauty. Carved into one of the corners was a tiny set of leaves, curling like the ones that hung over the Grove.

“Oh, Hassian,” she whispered, eyes sweeping over the details. “They’re perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted. Maybe even better.”

His ears flushed, but he ducked his head like it was no big deal. “We can test the first one next week, if the wood dries right.”

She tucked the drawing gently between the pages of her notebook and leaned into his side. “You’re the only man who’d try to romance me with table legs.”

“I thought the steak helped.”

“It did.”

Twilight deepened, and they moved to the telescope. Lyra adjusted it while Hassian gave pets to both plumehounds. She was tracking a cluster of stars that had just become visible in the southeastern sky.

He slipped an arm around her waist. “See anything good?”

“Your constellation,” she murmured, smiling without turning. “The hunter’s still chasing the moons.”

They stood in silence, breathing together under the stars.

Then—
flash.

A bright pink light bloomed suddenly in the sky—brief but unmistakable—like a flare igniting in the distance. It came from the north-northeast, then vanished.

Lyra lowered the telescope, blinking hard.

“Did you—?”

“I saw it,” Hassian said at once, his body already tense.

They stared into the night, the serenity of the moment still clinging to their skin like dew... but the air felt different now. Changed.

Lyra's fingers slipped into his, anchoring them both.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t over. And it wasn’t far.

The pink light faded as quickly as it came, swallowed by stars and the heavy hush of night. But the quiet wasn’t the same now—it carried a hum beneath it, like the world had exhaled something too big to name.

Lyra and Hassian stood frozen beside the telescope, their eyes fixed on the stretch of sky where the light had flared. As if staring long enough might conjure an answer.

“Do you think that was near the Night Sky Temple?” Lyra asked, her voice low.

Hassian didn’t hesitate. “It was definitely that direction.”

She turned sharply. “I have to check on Jina.”

Temple Turmoil

Before the last word left her lips, she was already bolting for the house. Boots. Pants. Hoodie. Moving on pure instinct.

Hassian followed at once, grabbing his boots from by the door. “I’m coming with you.”

They dressed in record time, slipping through the yard gate at a brisk pace, feet thudding softly against the packed dirt. The stars above were innocent and bright, as if they hadn't just watched something unnatural streak across the sky.

As they neared the temple clearing, they weren’t alone. Others had clearly seen it too—villagers moving in knots of two or three, eyes wide, voices hushed. People drawn by the same worry neither of them could put into words.

Reth and Tish stood near the entrance, the temple's tall doors silhouetted in faint moonlight. Reth was pacing slightly; Tish looked tense, arms crossed.

Hassian’s arm slipped instinctively around Lyra’s waist, steadying her before she even knew she needed it.

Reth turned at the sound of their approach, eyes narrowing. “That looked like Flow, right?”

Lyra’s heart lurched.

Tish added quietly, “She’s not in her tent.”

That was all Lyra needed. She sprinted for the door, one hand already reaching into her pocket.

The key slid into the lock.

Hassian was at her back in an instant. “Tau, Kaja—stay.”

The plumehounds obeyed, bristling but unmoving, while the heavy door creaked open and the scent of cool stone and ancient silence greeted them like a warning.

The air inside the Night Sky Temple was strangely warm, pulsing faintly with a deep purple glow. And there, at the center of the room, it hovered—
A column of light, soft and shimmering, shot up from a previously featureless stone in the floor. Suspended in its center was an object shaped like a staff—delicate but unmistakably powerful, slowly rotating in the air as if it weighed nothing at all.

“What in the—” Lyra murmured.

They didn’t have to wait long for answers.

Jina emerged from the shadows, followed closely by Hekla, her glowing eyes reflecting the strange light.

“Lyra!” Jina called, voice hushed with barely-contained excitement. “This is the most exciting thing I’ve seen since you humans appeared!”

Lyra blinked at the staff. “Any idea what caused it?”

“None,” Jina replied, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I was just hanging my washing to dry and then boom. Bright light from the sky. I rushed straight here and—this.” She gestured grandly to the column of light. “I have no idea how it got here, or what it’s doing.”

Lyra’s gaze shifted beyond the staff, her eyes catching on a faint golden glow. Her brow furrowed.

“There’s a door open. One we couldn’t open before.” Her tone was urgent. “We need to get Subira here.”

Jina nodded, her lips pressed thin. “I noticed the door too, but… Subira’s in Bahari City tonight. Order business. She won’t be back until morning.”

Lyra let out a quiet huff, taking another look around the temple’s main chamber.

“I say we wait for Subira before we go through that door.” Jina advised.

“That’s probably best.” Lyra walked slowly all the way around the new column of light.

“We’re staying here tonight,” Jina said, already moving toward her little camp setup near the far wall. “I don’t want to risk anyone else stumbling into this.”

“I’ll keep watch while Jina sleeps,” Hekla added, her voice smooth and even. She moved to the edge of the glowing light, standing sentinel.

Lyra hesitated, glancing toward Hassian. “We can stay too, if you’d like.”

Jina waved a hand. “No, not necessary. You should get some rest. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a big day.”

Lyra’s gaze lingered on the staff, then the door. She tried to memorize every line and shadow, as if it might all vanish once she turned her back.

“Okay,” she finally said quietly. “You know where to find me.”

Jina nodded, already taking notes in her journal. Hekla didn’t speak again.

Outside, the night air felt thicker than before—charged. More villagers were gathered now, murmuring in groups near the temple entrance. Reth, Tish, Nai’o, even Elouisa had joined, her brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s going on?” someone whispered.

Lyra didn’t stop moving, but she answered, “Jina’s staying. It’s safe—for now.”

“Was that Flow?” Elouisa asked, stepping forward.

“We don’t really know,” Hassian answered, voice calm. “Things seem safe for now.”

With that, Lyra reached for his hand, and the two of them moved past the murmurs and speculation, heading back down the path toward home.

Their boots crunched softly over the dirt path, the sky above them scattered with a thousand stars.

But the pink light was gone now.
And something had changed.

Just Tonight

By the time they’d changed and slipped into bed, the house was dark and still. The soft creak of the mattress and the rhythmic hum of crickets outside were the only sounds between them.

Lyra wriggled slightly, limbs pinned in place.

“I can’t move,” she muttered into his chest.

Hassian’s arms loosened immediately, though not entirely. “I’m sorry, baby.”

She tipped her head back just enough to see him. “You were trying to merge us into one being, weren’t you.”

“Guilty,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice until morning.”

Her smile faded slowly as his hold softened, replaced by the quiet pressure of him pulling her in again—but gentler this time. Protective. Like if he could just anchor her here, maybe the world outside the walls would wait.

“I know this is your thing,” Hassian said quietly. “You’ve done this kind of stuff before. Weird temple lights. Magical surprises. But tonight…” He swallowed. “It feels like the stakes just got higher.”

Lyra was quiet, letting him find the words.

“I know I have to let you go,” he said finally. “You’re not mine to keep locked up, and you’d fight your way out if I tried.” That earned a small smile from her. “But I’m terrified, Lyra. I’m scared of what’s out there now. Scared of what it might mean. And I just—” His hand slid up her back, resting between her shoulder blades. “I hate the idea of you walking into something I can’t protect you from.”

She lifted her hand and brushed her thumb across his cheek.

“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I promise. I won’t take risks just because I’m curious. I won’t go poking the Flow just to see what happens. I’m not that girl, not anymore.”

He was quiet, listening.

“And you’re not alone in this either,” she added. “You’re not the only one afraid. But I believe in us. In what we’ve built. And I believe in myself. I’ll come back to you. Always.”

Hassian’s eyes closed for a beat. When he opened them, there was still fear—but it sat beside something steadier. Trust.

“I just found where I belong,” he whispered. “I don’t want to lose it.”

Lyra leaned up and pressed her forehead to his.

“You’re not going to lose me,” she said. “I’m here, remember?”

He nodded softly. “And you’re not going anywhere.”

The stars outside burned steady. And for now, so did they.