The morning sun slid lazily across the windowsill, warm and golden, the kind of light that usually meant a good day ahead. Lyra wasn’t sure if she believed in good days just yet. But at least her limbs didn’t ache as much, and the heaviness in her chest wasn’t pressing quite so hard.

She padded barefoot into the kitchen, hair messy, eyes still soft with sleep. Hassian was already at the stove, flipping something that smelled faintly of honey and smoke.

“You made breakfast?” she asked, voice a little scratchy.

He turned, flashing her that quiet, slow smile—the one that always felt like it was just for her. “You slept,” he said, simply. “I figured I’d keep the miracle streak going.”

She chuckled, sliding into a chair at the table. “I feel better today. Still tired, but… clearer.”

He set a plate in front of her and sat down across from her, watching her as she took the first bite. The silence was comfortable, thick, but not painful anymore.

“I don’t regret it,” she said softly. “Following her. Even after what happened.”

“I know,” he said, just as quietly. “I still hate it. But I know.”

They didn’t need to say Tamala’s name out loud. The taste of her lingered, bitter and sharp, like smoke in the walls.

Later, they moved to the garden, letting the sunlight do what it could. Hassian knelt beside her in the dirt, pulling weeds like they mattered, like the world hadn’t nearly caved in a few days ago. Lyra clipped ripe peppers into her basket, pausing now and then to touch the leaves like they were old friends.

The quiet was good.

Until it wasn’t.

“We see her, Hassian!” Saraya’s voice rang out from the gate. “Lyra, blink twice if you’re being held against your will!”

Lyra startled—then burst out laughing. Hassian groaned under his breath, but he was smiling too.

“She doesn’t blink on command,” he called back. “I tried training her, but she’s a bit wild.”

“Rude,” Lyra said, elbowing him as she stood and waved them in. “Come on, troublemakers.”

Saraya and Lexi came bounding over like twin hurricanes, arms already halfway open.

“You look like a ghost who learned to garden,” Saraya said, giving her a once-over.

“That’s a compliment, by the way,” Lexi added quickly. “You’re glowing and terrifying.”

Lyra snorted. “It’s been a week.”

They all made their way to the dining table in the backyard, drinks passed around, feet tucked under. Hassian stayed close—he always did—but let her lead. Until she looked at him, quietly nodded, and he cleared his throat.

“She wants to tell you what’s going on,” he said. “But she can’t.”

Saraya leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean she can’t?”

Lexi eyed her "You're not pregnant are you?" she asked.

"Pregnant?" Lyra's mouth dropped open. "Stars, no!"

Hassian’s jaw tightened. “Tamala put a spell on her. She physically can’t talk about it. So I’ll tell you what I can.”

Lyra reached for his hand under the table.

“She was tailing Tamala, at Subira’s request. Something about the temple protocols and the Elderwood tap being manipulated. The witch is Subira's main suspect.”

Both Saraya and Lexi sat up straighter at that.

“Lyra followed her into a cave. Tamala caught her, cursed her, said some horrible things—”

Hassian paused, his jaw twitching. “And left her trapped in there.”

“Oh, I will fight that woman,” Saraya snapped.

“With what?” Lexi said more quietly, but no less fierce. “She’s got magic we don’t even understand.”

Hassian shook his head. “If fighting her were an option, I would have done it already. Anyone who goes after that witch is just asking to be cursed too.”

That silenced the table.

Hassian turned to look at Lyra, helplessness and fury twisting tight in his chest. Her shoulders seemed smaller lately. Not physically — but in the way she held herself. As if something inside her had curled inward.

He stood abruptly at the sound of Kaja biffing out front.

“I’ll check on her,” he muttered, voice tight. “Be right back.”

But it wasn’t just Kaja.

He needed a minute. Needed to breathe somewhere her broken voice wasn’t still ringing in his ears.

Guard Kaja

Kaja was barking from the front of the house—short, persistent bursts. Agitated, not playful. Annoyed, not alarmed.

He frowned. Probably a chapaa. Or one of those smug little rockhoppers that liked to sunbathe on the path stones. Either way, it was the perfect excuse to step away from feelings.

He gave a nod of vague farewell to the garden crew and followed the plumehound’s voice around front.

He stopped just inside the gate, arms crossed.

Subira stood frozen on the path like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to exist here. Kaja had her trapped with sheer puffed-up authority and thirty pounds of righteous floof. She wasn’t snarling—just issuing that sharp, clipped bark known in plumehound as: You shall not pass.

“Enough,” Hassian said, calm and clear.

Kaja immediately backed off, ears dipping as she padded smugly to his side, radiating victory. Subira looked like she’d just been detained by security.

“May I come in?” she asked. Too formal.

Hassian nodded and gave a small wave. “Come on.”

She stepped through the gate cautiously, as if the ground might lunge up and bite her. He turned, ready to head back.

“Actually…” Her voice stopped him. “Can I talk to you?”

He didn’t sigh, didn’t groan—but the air around him shifted. Tightened. Like a storm cloud coiling in place.

“I just wanted to ask how Lyra’s doing.”

“She’s rested,” he said. “Feeling better. Doesn’t like being under a curse.” His tone was flat. “It shook her more than it hurt her.”

Subira pressed her lips together. “When this all started, I didn’t realize there was… history with Tamala.”

He stared at her, and a familiar, ugly thought surfaced — Lyra didn’t deserve to pay for his mistakes.

She shifted gears with a small clear of her throat. “Anyway. I’ve been in contact with some alchemists from the Order. They developed a new formula—coating for fishing hooks and bug bombs. We’re hoping it’ll be effective against infected fish and insects.”

She paused. “I need field testing. I don’t suppose you and Lyra would be interested?”

“I’m not,” Hassian said, already turning. “If Lyra wants to, I’ll go with her.”

Subira nodded, unoffended. “Fair. Just so you know, the Order is crediting you as the originator of the coating. You’ll be receiving a certificate of appreciation.”

He didn’t blink. “Doesn’t mean much to me.”

“I understand. Still… it was your idea.”

“There was a team who tested it.”

“They’re being recognized too.”

He gave a single, curt nod, arms still folded like a wall he had no plans to lower.

“If Lyra’s interested in trying the lures and bombs,” Subira added, “maybe we wait till next week. Give her a few more days.”

“Not this weekend,” Hassian said. “We’ll be busy. Wedding prep.”

Subira’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh—yes. I received the invitation. I look forward to witnessing your marriage.”

“Thank you,” he said shortly. Saraya’s department, he thought. He wasn’t even sure his own mother had been invited yet.

“One more thing.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a folded paper. “This is the address of a retired alchemist. He used to work for the Order. He knows Tamala’s work. If anyone can undo the curse—or offer protection against future attacks—it’s him.”

Hassian finally moved. He unfolded his arms and took the slip. Opened it. Scanned the name.

“Why didn’t you lead with this?” he asked.

Before she could answer, voices and laughter drifted around the side of the house. Lexi and Saraya appeared first, mid-sentence and deeply animated.

“I swear I’ll knock her head off her creepy little neck—”

Lyra cut in dryly, trailing behind them with her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed. “There’s no way we can fight….this.”

“Yet,” Hassian said, stepping aside to let them through.

Lyra paused, arching an eyebrow. Yet? she mouthed, but didn’t press. Not here. Not in front of Subira.

“I’m glad to see you looking much better, Lyra,” Subira said.

Lyra gave her a polite, faint smile. “Thanks.”

“I have to go—meeting Elouisa. We’re discussing long-term handling options for Essence.” She turned to Hassian. “Will you fill her in on what we talked about?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Be well.” And just like that, she was gone—vanishing as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving a faint swirl of awkwardness in her wake.

Lexi and Saraya followed soon after, still plotting war crimes.

Hassian glanced down at the slip of paper in his hand. Then at Lyra, who was watching him with quiet focus.

For Us

Hassian extended his hand toward Lyra, the gesture gentle, almost tentative. “Walk with me?” he asked, more question than command.

Lyra felt like she’d been slow-roasted over an open emotional flame. So many feelings, so many serious conversations—it was starting to melt her brain. All she wanted was to shoot something, preferably an ogopuu. But one look at his face reminded her that this wasn't easy for him either. Maybe harder. So, despite the swirl of everything inside her, she gave him a soft smile and reached for his hand.

Because she would never turn him away.

He led her down by the river, where the grass grew wild and the breeze carried the clean scent of water and stone. They settled together, close in the shade, their fingers still laced like they couldn’t bear to let go. For a while, they sat in silence, the only sound the gentle murmur of the stream and the rustle of wind through leaves.

Then, Hassian spoke.

“Subira wants me to inform you that alchemists for the Order have created a formula for fishing lures and bug bombs,” he said, his tone mild. “She wanted to know if we were interested in testing them.”

“Sounds interesting,” Lyra replied, turning her head to look at him. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her I wasn’t interested.” He paused. “But I’d do it if you wanted to.”

Lyra chuckled lightly. “I think I’d like to. I’m starting to get a little crazy being stuck in the house. It’s like when I sprained my ankle again.”

She paused, then added more gently, “But I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You were out of the house last night. We went to see Chayne. And when you sprained your ankle… that was another time you terrified me,” he said dryly.

“I know we went to see Chayne,” Lyra said with a half-smile. “But I meant something…”

“Important?” he guessed, brow raised.

“I was going to say physical. Active. Of course last night was important.”

He nodded slowly.

“Will you tell me something honestly?” she asked.

“Of course, baby.”

Lyra hesitated, then looked at him, her voice softer now. “Do you ever miss your nice, quiet life? When you made all your own decisions and didn’t have a crazy, reckless woman terrifying you and her whacky friends annoying you?”

“You mean my empty, lonely life?” Hassian replied without missing a beat. “With no one to love and no one to love me? No one to share with, to dream with? That’s a solid no. You are one of the few things I’ll never regret.”

Then, more seriously, he added, “Do you miss not having witches target you because of someone else’s mistake?”

Lyra let out a breath, her answer certain. “Absolutely not. You are everything I could want. The way you treat me like a queen, take care of me, protect me—the way you love me. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that... to keep you.”

She faltered, her next words catching on emotion. “You need to let go of the guilt, Hassian. It’s not your fault. She’s…”

But the words wouldn’t come.

Hassian winced, a flicker of pain tightening the corners of his eyes. It cut him to the core knowing that witch had any kind of hold over her.

After a moment of silence, he said, “Subira gave me the name and address of a man in Bahari City. A retired Order alchemist. She said he might be able to remove the spell—maybe even offer us some protection. Will you go see him with me tomorrow?”

Lyra’s mouth pulled into a small frown. “Hassian, I’m over the spells and magic and things we don’t understand. Maybe it’s best to leave things alone.”

“Please, baby,” Hassian said softly, urgency in his voice. “Do this for us… for me. I’m tired of the shadow of that witch hanging over us.”

Lyra looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay, hunter, I’ll go. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

She leaned in close, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into her. His hand came up to cradle her head, guiding it gently to rest against his chest.

“I love you, Lyra,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you too,” she murmured back.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and murmured, “I want to see you smile again, really smile. I haven’t seen it since that light that lit up the sky that night. I’ve missed it.”

Lyra’s lips curved into a faint, fragile smile against his chest, and it was enough to make him release the tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

The river whispered beside them, steady and sure, its current catching sunlight like scattered jewels. A breeze stirred through the trees, carrying the scent of wildflowers and damp stone, rustling the tall grass around them. Somewhere nearby, a bird called once, twice, then went quiet again.

They sat quietly like that for a long while, the world narrowing to the steady rhythm of each other’s heartbeats, the warmth of sun and shade, and the quiet joy of being together.

Finally, Hassian spoke again. “We’ll let Subira know we’ll go Monday to test the lures and bug bombs. I did tell her it would likely be Monday because we have wedding prep in the Grove this weekend.”

“I’m sure you’re going to enjoy that,” Lyra said with a laugh, teasing.

“I actually look forward to it. Every crazy minute,” he replied, a rare smile curling his lips.

“Just tell me we won’t have to dance,” Hassian muttered.

Lyra smirked. “You’re absolutely dancing.”

He groaned. “Is it too late for us to elope?”

“Way too late, hunter.”