The walk to Lesare’s cottage was quiet, except for Tau’s occasional huff and the distant hum of Bahari insects. The house was a crooked thing, bent by time and thick with herbs and salt dust. There were wind chimes made of bones on the porch and a sign on the door that read: “Don’t knock unless you’re interesting.”

Hassian didn’t knock. He opened the door and called out, “Lesare? Subira sent us.”

From inside: “Then I suppose you’re interesting. Come in before the ghosts get nosy.”

Lyra raised a brow. Hassian didn’t blink.

Lesare was old, with hair like driftwood and eyes that had clearly seen too much. He wore a scarf indoors and had a cat that wasn’t really a cat, sitting in the window like a judgmental statue.

“I’ll start the tea.” the old man said.

“We’re not here for tea,” Hassian said simply. “My name is Hassian. This is my fiancée, Lyra.”

Lyra blinked, warmth flaring in her chest like a sunrise, but she said nothing. Hassian went on.

“Subira thought you might be able to help. Tamala placed a curse on her. Lyra can’t say anything bad about her—not even if it’s the truth. And Subira also thought you might be able to help us defend ourselves… from future attacks.”

Lesare let out a low whistle and tilted his head, studying Lyra like she was a puzzle he half-remembered solving once in a dream. “That woman’s not subtle.”

“Far from it,” Lyra said, her mouth twisting. “She’s a ….” Lyra went silent, her mouth refusing to form the words.

“Strong curse indeed, but I’d expect no less from Tamala. Good news is–I’m stronger.” Lesare chuckled.

“Tell me, what did you do to make Tamala so jealous of you?” Lesare asked with a playful smile.

Hassian answered “It wasn’t her, it was me. It’s my fault. I was involved with her. Years ago. She ended it. But when she found out about Lyra… she’s after her because she knows hurting Lyra is the best way to hurt me.”

Lesare turned serious, fingers steepling. “She sees auras—energy, power, connections. She sees the strength of your bond, the love between you. Something she’s never had and never will. And she hates you for it. Simple jealousy.”

Hassian’s jaw clenched.

Lesare continued, “She’ll keep throwing it in your face, claiming she had him first. But she only had him because she put him under a spell. When she saw cracks in it—when his spirit started to pull free—she cast a stronger one and then kicked him out. Not for love. For cruelty. To leave him questioning everything. Trying to break him. Took a strong spirit, a strong love to pull him from that.”

Lyra reached out and found Hassian’s hand already waiting. He didn’t understand magic. But he understood loyalty. Protection. Love.

Lesare stood and crossed the room. “I can break it now, but it’ll require a bit of will. Lyra, keep hold of him. Hassian, don’t let go.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Hassian murmured, his fingers tightening around hers.

Lesare placed his hands lightly at Lyra’s temples. “This will sting.”

There was a breath—a sudden chill—and then a sound like a glass bell shattering in the distance. Lyra swayed, and Hassian’s arm shot around her waist, steadying her.

She blinked. “She’s… Tamala is a bitter old bitch.”

He grinned, eyes twinkling. “You’re free. That sting? Totally exaggerated—my dramatic flair, nothing more. But fair warning, she’ll try again. So I’m arming you with a little insurance.” He dove into the chest like a pirate after buried treasure and emerged with two matching pendants, simple but etched with runes that shimmered faintly in the light. “Wear these. Think of them as magical bubble wrap—minor spells bounce off, bigger ones get a soft landing. And if she’s fortunate enough to succeed at anything… well, you know where to find me.”

Lesare let out a low whistle, then tapped the side of his nose. “The stars might shift, the winds might howl, but you two… you’ll always find each other.”

Hassian tightened his hold on Lyra, nodding. “Always.”

She leaned against him, feeling the warmth in her chest settle.

Finally, his gaze grew distant, eyes fogged with something deeper than sight. “You’ll be tested again,” he said, voice low. “But your connection runs deep. You’ll grow stronger still… You will have a long life together, full of love. And the two of you will leave a legacy—more than you can imagine.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

“Sometimes I drift.” Lesare said, blinking his eyes.

“Thank you.” Hassian said.

Lesare waved them toward the door. “Go. Live your love story. And tell Subira I still want that pie she owes me.”

No Shadows Left

When the door closed behind them, the day slipped away, leaving only the two of them—and the quiet, undeniable pull that had been simmering since sunset.

The conservatory still held the warmth of the day, its air laced with lilac and fresh herbs. Pale moonlight spilled through the glass ceiling, silvering tangled sheets and bare skin alike. The night hummed softly—crickets outside, Tau’s occasional whistle at the door, Kaja stretched across the rug—and beneath her, the steady breath of the man she loved.

Lyra straddled Hassian’s hips, her palms braced on his chest, her thighs snug against his. Nothing between them now—no ghosts, no layers of fabric, no reasons to hold back. Just heat. And heart.

His hands framed her waist, reverent, steady. “You’re looking at me like I’m the last thing you’ll ever need.”

She smiled, slow and wicked. “You are.”

Hassian exhaled like she’d punched the breath out of him. One of his hands trailed up her ribs, fingers curling behind her neck to draw her close. She went willingly, pressing their foreheads together, eyes half-lidded, her mouth brushing his as she whispered, “I love you.”

His grip tightened just slightly. “I love you too, Baby, you’re my everything,”

Their lips met—gentle, then demanding. It deepened quickly, their bodies answering a rhythm long since memorized. She shifted her hips, teasing him until he groaned low in his throat.

“Lyra…”

“Shh,” she breathed, guiding him into her with a slow, practiced roll of her hips. The stretch stole her breath. She settled on him fully with a soft gasp, both of them momentarily still—he beneath her, and she trembling above like a flame that had just found kindling.

He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “You feel like home.”

She started to move, slow and deep, her hands sliding over his shoulders, his chest, like she was mapping every part of him again just to memorize it all over. “You are my home,” she murmured. “You always have been.”

Their rhythm built with each breath, each roll of her hips met with the upward thrust of his. His hands were everywhere—spanning her hips, trailing her thighs, stroking her spine. Her body sang with each touch, lit with heat and love and something deeper: belonging.

“You’re mine,” she said, voice thick. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” he growled, one hand tangling in her hair. “I’ve always been yours.”

She rocked harder, chasing pleasure with a kind of purpose, her breath stuttering, his name a mantra on her lips. His hands gripped her tighter as his restraint frayed, as she pulled him closer with every movement, every soft cry and whispered claim.

When release overtook her, it hit like a wave—sweeping her under, head thrown back, stars exploding behind her eyes. She collapsed into him as he followed, groaning her name like a vow as he buried himself deeper, trembling beneath her.

Silence settled again—this time thick with heat and heartbeats. Lyra lay draped across him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, their sweat-slicked bodies tangled and humming. His fingers traced lazy circles over her back.

“You’re here,” he whispered, the words low and reverent.

Her lips brushed his collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled, long and slow, like that truth had finally taken root in his bones.

The stars above shimmered against the glass, quiet and eternal.

And wrapped in moonlight and the warmth of each other’s arms, they lay together—no shadows, no ghosts. Just love.