The docks of De Mer were quiet in the early light, the mist still curling over the water like it had secrets to guard. Lyra leaned over the railing, scanning the surface for the telltale sign Subira had described. A faint ripple… then the faint shimmer of violet bubbles breaking the surface.

“There,” Hassian said, already setting his line.

Lyra cast her lure, the plunk of it swallowed by the hush of water and fog. The bubbles stirred, and a sluggish, jerking shadow darted for the bait. “She reeled in quickly, the rod bowing under the weight. The fish burst the surface with a spray, its scales dulled with a purplish sheen.”

“One down,” she said, wrinkling her nose as Hassian unhooked it and dropped it into the crate.

They fell into a rhythm, scanning for purple bubbles, casting, hauling in. Some of the fish fought like mad, others seemed almost too weak to resist, but each one bore the same sickly hue. By the time the sun was high enough to burn away most of the mist, the crate held a dozen catches.

“That’s enough,” Hassian said, laying his rod across the dock. “Test is a success.”

Lyra wiped damp hair from her forehead. “Think Subira will be happy?”

“She’ll be satisfied.”

Her gaze drifted toward deeper water, where the sleek shapes of ogopuu slid through shafts of sunlight. She sighed, eyes alight.

“Don’t even think about it,” Hassian muttered.

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

His glance was flat but amused. “That’s not why we came today.”

Lyra sighed, “I know.”

They sat with their boots dangling over the side of the dock, waves slapping against the pilings below. Hassian handed her a wrapped flatbread stuffed with roast sernuk and herbs, then took his own.

For a while, they ate in companionable quiet, batterflies circling above, the faint smell of brine heavy in the air. Then Hassian’s gaze lingered on her a moment too long.

“You’re tired,” he said finally. “Not just from the fishing.”

Lyra picked at the edge of the bread. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“You haven’t, for days,” he said, voice low but steady. “Why don’t we talk to Chayne? See if he can recommend something for the nightmares. Even if it’s just to help you rest easier.”

She thought about arguing, but the way his eyes softened made it pointless. Instead, she gave a little nod. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.”

His hand brushed over hers briefly, a small squeeze before he let go. “Good.” He leaned back on his palms, looking out toward the glittering expanse of water. “That’s settled, then. Eat up—we’ve still got bugs ahead of us.”

Lyra managed a smile, letting the salty wind tangle through her hair. For now, at least, the world felt steady.

Buggin’

The Deep Woods felt different from the rest of the Elderwood—denser, quieter, with that strange weight in the air Lyra could never quite name. They followed a winding path until they reached a secluded island section, ringed by slow-moving water like a natural moat. The air hummed faintly with insects, and the ground was soft beneath their boots.

Hassian helped her across a mossy log that bridged the gap, then they set their packs down. Both buckled on the special belts Subira had given them, each holding a neat row of bug bombs and an empty satchel for the catch.

Lyra dug into her pack and pulled out the honey lure—a strange little contraption meant to lure bugs and frogs with its sweet, vibrating hum. She stepped toward the water’s edge but hesitated, glancing back.

“So, uh… you actually know how to use these things?” she asked, eyes glinting.

Hassian gave her a look. “Really, baby? How much time have I spent with Auni?”

Her mouth quirked into a smile. “Oh… yeah. Right.” She paused, the memory softening her expression. “You know, he was the first one to ask me to do something with him in Killima. Made me feel welcome.”

“I’m glad he did,” Hassian said, adjusting the strap of his belt. “’Cause I heard when you wanted to learn to hunt, that hunter was an asshole.”

She grinned, eyes glittering. “That sexy, fine-ass hunter? Mmm, I knew someday he’d be my man though.”

He gave a low chuckle, stepped in, and brushed his lips to hers in a quick kiss. “He completely is.”

Satisfied, she knelt and set the honey lure near the water. The moment it began its gentle hum, the undergrowth erupted with movement. Rockhoppers came bounding from every direction—legs springing, throats bulging, some already oozing the faint purple ick they were here to eradicate.

“Here we go!” Lyra called, grabbing a bomb and tossing it into the cluster. A soft whump sent a cloud of herbal smoke rolling over the frogs.

Chaos followed—Hassian lunging for a particularly fat one, Lyra scooping up two at once, the satchels swinging heavily against their hips as they worked. Frogs squealed, splashed, and leapt into the air, only to be plucked or scooped by practiced hands.

It was messy, loud, and absolutely ridiculous.

Lyra laughed breathlessly as she slammed her satchel shut. “That’s gotta be half the island’s population.”

“Half?” Hassian said, reaching for another bomb. “We’re just getting started.”

They went through a few more honey lures, and soon their satchels were squirming with a couple dozen rockhoppers—each one coated in a gross sheen of whatever purple muck had infected them.

Lyra brushed a strand of hair from her face, leaving a smear of gunk across her cheek. “Well, we caught fish, we caught rockhoppers… I’d call that a successful test. I say these things work.”

“I concur,” Hassian said, holding his satchel at arm’s length like it might explode. “Can we go home and de-gunk now?”

But Lyra’s eyes had narrowed, her focus sliding past him. Her grin sharpened.

“Not just yet,” she murmured, already heading for the shallows. “Follow me.”

They crossed the narrow strip of water back to the mainland, boots splashing. Hassian fell into step beside her, a slow grin curving his mouth. “I see where this is going.”

Lyra slid her bow from her back, nocking an arrow. Hassian mirrored the movement, muscles fluid and ready.

“Those puu have been watching us,” she said, voice low with mock menace. “They must suffer.”

He chuckled, watching the light in her eyes—the same light he’d been hoping to see since she’d woken from that nightmare this morning, shaken and guarded. Seeing it now made something in his chest loosen.

A dozen ogopuu were sprawled in the sun near the bank, blissfully unaware. Lyra’s first arrow struck true, slowing one with a startled croak. Hassian’s followed in quick succession, and they fell into rhythm, arrows flying until the last of them flopped still.

Lyra lowered her bow, grinning like she’d just been gifted a mountain of gold. “That was so much fun.”

Hassian let a smile creep over his face. “Yeah… you’re feeling better.”

“I have to get the gang back out here,” she said, already buzzing with the idea. “I need it.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. And as they turned toward home, he tucked away a quiet hope—that maybe the shadow from this morning had loosened its grip, even if only for now.

Dancin’

The walk back to the house was light, even playful. Lyra’s boots slapped against the path with a rhythm that matched her grin, her satchel swinging lazily at her side. Hassian fell in step beside her, watching her with quiet amusement. She hadn’t looked this happy in days—no, maybe weeks.

“You really do love hunting those little lizards," he said, voice low but teasing as she laughed at some remembered misstep of the ogopuu.

“They’re ridiculous,” she admitted, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “But I love it.”

Hassian shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ridiculous, yes. But you’re ridiculous too, and I love it.”

By the time they reached the house, their clothes were damp with sweat and dirt. Lyra didn’t even wait for him to say anything; she headed straight to the bath. Hassian followed more slowly, letting her energy wash over him. When they emerged, fresh and clean, the sun had dipped low, casting golden light through the windows.

Dinner was quiet, cozy, filled with the clink of utensils and the soft murmur of their conversation. Lyra’s laughter came easily between bites, her eyes sparkling, her hands animated. Hassian found himself grinning against his will, his heart softening each time she spoke of the day’s hunt.

Afterward, Lyra pushed back her chair with a small huff and jumped to her feet. “Come on. It’s time.”

Hassian raised an eyebrow. “Time for?”

“You’ll see,” she said, her eyes gleaming.

“I thought we were relaxing,” he muttered, though he allowed her to take his hand.

“Practice time,” Lyra announced, heading toward the living room with a purposeful bounce in her step.

Hassian raised an eyebrow, “Practice time?”

She shot him a warm grin over her shoulder. “You know… for the wedding. The dance. Come on.”

Hassian’s hand reached for the back of his neck. “Give me a minute to remember how not to step on you,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Lyra didn’t argue. She pulled the record from the shelf and set it on the player, letting the soft crackle fill the room. The gentle, familiar strains of their chosen song floated through the space.

Hassian exhaled, glancing down at her. “Alright, lead the way, Miss Teacher.”

She stepped into his arms, and he let himself fall into her rhythm, carefully at first. Almost immediately, though, he relaxed, his movements smoothing as he pulled her closer. The warmth of her body pressed against his, the soft rise and fall of her chest matching his own, it felt… right.

She looks happy, he thought, letting the thought linger. Truly happy. And all because of something I didn’t even plan—just following her wherever she wanted. I could stay like this forever.

Lyra’s hands rested lightly on his shoulders, her eyes soft and bright. “Better?” she asked.

He grumbled softly under his breath, a little embarrassed, but couldn’t hide the quiet smile that spread across his face. Irresistible, he thought, letting the word linger between them as he held her just a little tighter.

They moved through the song again, slowly, deliberately, each step settling into a gentle rhythm. Hassian’s hands stayed firm at her waist, guiding her effortlessly, and she melted into him, happy and content.

I love seeing her like this. She deserves this… deserves everything I can give her, he reflected, heart thudding in his chest.

“Getting the hang of it yet?” she asked softly when the song ended.

He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Maybe… I could learn to like this,” he said quietly, voice rough but soft, eyes locked on hers.

The music ended, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, holding her close. When he finally pulled back slightly, he whispered, “I can’t wait to dance with you at our wedding.”

Lyra’s hands lingered on his chest, her smile gentle and warm. “I can’t wait to dance with my husband,” she murmured.

Something in Hassian stilled. His breath caught — just barely — but she felt it. His jaw flexed, eyes searching her face like he wasn’t quite sure he deserved a phrase that beautiful.

“You say things like that,” he murmured, voice low and rough with emotion, “as if you don’t realize what they do to me.”

His hand tightened at her waist, not possessive — reverent. Like she was something precious he was still learning how to hold.

A quiet, almost helpless smile touched his lips before he could stop it, and he ducked his head just enough for his forehead to rest against hers.

“If being your husband means moments like this…” he breathed, letting out a soft, unguarded huff of a laugh, “then I'm in for a very happy life.”

He pressed a slow kiss to her brow, voice dropping to a whisper, “And I’m grateful,” he added, barely a breath. “More than I know how to say.”

And for a moment, the world outside the living room fell away, leaving only the quiet joy of being together. There was only the quiet glow of two people choosing each other again and again, and the promise of a lifetime waiting just days ahead.