They woke in each other’s arms, limbs tangled beneath the conservatory’s canopy of glass and soft light. The morning sun filtered through the leaves overhead, painting gold across the sheets and the curve of Lyra’s shoulder. Hassian hadn’t moved all night. Neither had she.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmured against her hair.

“Good morning, handsome,” she whispered back, tilting her face toward his with a sleepy smile.

They lingered a few more moments, the quiet too comfortable to break. Eventually, Hassian shifted, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Let me get you some breakfast before you go.”

Lyra sighed softly. “Just something light. I’m not really hungry.”

He nodded, and they dressed in the soft hush of morning, pulling on familiar clothes, letting the silence speak where words weren’t needed. The house was still cool as they padded into the kitchen, the warmth of the oven slow to wake.

Hassian made toast and jam while Lyra sat at the table, arms folded, watching him move with practiced ease. He brought the plate over, setting it down gently before taking the seat beside her.

She smiled faintly. “What are you going to do today?”

“Bit of hunting in Bahari,” he said around a sip of tea. “We’re running low on meat, and Tau gets cranky if we don’t restock. Later, I’m meeting Saraya and Lexi at the Grove—so they can go over the wedding layout. Seating, flowers, the whole thing.”

He was still talking when Lyra reached over, lightly touching his hand.

“Hassian,” she said quietly, “I’m afraid I might have to break a promise to you.”

His brow furrowed, the toast forgotten. “What promise?”

Her eyes dropped to the table. “I told you I wouldn’t go deep into the Elderwood. That I’d stay out of the dangerous places.” She took a breath. “But I don’t know where this is going to take me. If I follow this… I may have to go farther than I said I would.”

“I know,” he said gently. “Don’t let it bother you, baby. We had no idea what we were dealing with when you made that promise.”

She nodded, eyes falling to her untouched toast. Then, after a breath: “Hassian… if you want to postpone the wedding—or even cancel it—I get it.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What? Me? Do you?” The questions spilled out, sharp and fast. “Why would you even think that?”

She met his gaze. “Because I know you’ve been worried. Ever since Tamala said what she did—and maybe before. I saw the change in you last night, when I was talking about the Elderwood, the tap. I know you’re afraid I won’t come back. And if that’s too much for you….”

She hesitated, then added, “If you need to distance yourself—to protect yourself—I would understand.”

Hassian didn’t speak. He stood instead, rounded the table, and pulled her up into his arms. He held her close, breath warm against her temple.

“No,” he said simply. “I won’t—I can’t, Lyyra.”

He leaned back just enough to look into her eyes. “You remember the story? About the Lovers’ constellation? I told you if the forest flooded, I’d drown with you.”
His voice dropped, low and steady. “This is me preparing for the flood, Lyra. And praying it passes us by. Even if it doesn’t—Nothing will make me let go.”

Her eyes shimmered, and her voice was barely a breath. “I love you.”

He smiled, quiet and certain. “I love you too baby.”

They didn’t linger much longer. Hassian coaxed her into eating a few bites of toast, watching her with quiet concern as she picked at the corner of the slice. She managed a smile for his sake. Before she could stop him, he was already wrapping up a sandwich and tucking it into her bag, just in case.

At the door, he kissed her forehead and rested his hand at the back of her neck, just for a moment.

“Just stay safe,” he murmured.

“I will,” she said softly. “You too.”

Then she turned, the morning sun at her back, and headed for the trees.

This was Home

The Grove was quiet, save for the distant churn of the waterfall. Sunlight filtered through the trees in patches, warming the old firepit where Hassian sat with Tau curled beside him. The stones were cool beneath his hands—untouched, undisturbed. No fire, not in months.

The door to the clearing stood open behind him, propped just in case Saraya and Lexi arrived early. He didn’t want to have to get up when they came. Didn’t want to move at all.

The hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to do was let that little girl walk away from me this morning and pretend I was okay with it.

He rested his forearms on his knees, staring into the empty circle of ash and stone. Tau stirred slightly but didn’t lift his head. They both knew this fire wouldn’t be lit today.

It was strange being here now. Familiar—but not in the way that made his shoulders ease. This place used to feel like armor, the one spot in the world that asked nothing of him. Now… it felt like he was visiting an older version of himself who still thought being alone was the goal.

Home wasn’t here anymore.
Home was where she was.

He thought about the satchel she’d slung over her shoulder when she left. He’d tucked a sandwich into it before she walked out the door—just in case. She hadn’t eaten much breakfast. Just toast, nibbled at the corner like it might bite her back. Said she wasn’t hungry. She lied badly.

He exhaled and looked toward the waterfall, to the ledge overlooking the pool where Lyra wanted the wedding arch. “Right here,” she’d said, grinning, cheeks pink from the cold, “where we gave each other our pins. I want to promise myself to you right here.”

His hand moved almost unconsciously to his chest, fingers brushing over the pin she’d made him. Engraved metal. Warmed by his body. A constant weight that reminded him who he belonged to.

He hoped she wasn’t alone out there. Was Subira with her? Was anyone?
Did she have to be alone? He shook his head, there was work to do. Tables needed building. The wood needed time to dry before the building could begin. And the arch… he was going to build it himself. Every notch, every groove, every twist of wood would carry his name—and hers.

But his mind wandered again. Would she be back tonight? Would he get to sleep with her in his arms, her breath against his neck? Or was this going to be one of those things—days of silence. No way to know if she was okay. No way to reach her.

He didn’t know if he could take that.

This morning she’d said she’d understand if he wanted to postpone the wedding. She hadn’t flinched when she said it, hadn’t looked away. Just sat there, being brave again, the way she always was when it scared him the most.

But it scared her too. He saw it.

He remembered what it felt like waiting for his momma to come back from the Elderwood when he was just a boy. Remembered that awful quiet when his mother wouldn't meet his eyes. Remembered trying not to cry, because crying made it real.

He didn’t want to live in that space again—where loving someone meant wondering if they were ever coming home.

A crunch of leaves broke his spiral. Voices—Saraya and Lexi, laughing as they came through the door he’d left open.

Hassian stood, brushing his hands on his thighs, pushing all the thoughts aside.

Time to build a wedding–and pray the bride shows up.

Disturbing the Peace

The sound of voices—loud ones—cut through the hush of the Grove.

Saraya was first through the archway, arms full of cloth swatches and a notebook, eyes already scanning the space like a general surveying a battlefield.

Lexi followed, holding what looked like a mason jar full of pebbles. “Okay, hear me out—centerpieces.”

Hassian blinked at them, still gripping the axe in one hand.

Lexi froze mid-step. “Oh. You’re, uh, already chopping. Good. Strong silent types are good for morale.”

Saraya dropped her things with a thud and clapped her hands. “Let’s get to work then. Lexi, start laying out the fabric so we can test lighting. Hassian, I'm thinking the arch goes just in front of the waterfall—”

“I know,” he said, voice even. “That’s where she wants it.”

Both girls paused at that. Lexi gave him a grin. “She conditioned you well.”

“I’m not a dog,” Hassian muttered, turning back to the log.

“Sure, sure,” Saraya said breezily. “You just sit, stay, and fetch like one.”

The axe hit wood with a sharp crack.

Lexi leaned over to Saraya and whispered (loudly), “He misses her.”

“I heard that,” Hassian said without looking up. He missed her, more than he’d admit.

“Oh, we know,” Lexi chimed sweetly.

He closed his eyes for a beat and exhaled through his nose.
It was going to be a very long afternoon.