Epilogue 2
MAIZE
Five years later…
The early afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains that framed the balcony doors, the new rug beneath my feet plush and soft against my bare skin.
I stood in the nursery, one hand resting on the gentle curve of my belly as I searched for the perfect spot to hang the butterfly mobile I held in my other.
It sparkled in a rainbow of different hues, each wing flickering with a spark of magic that made the butterflies appear alive.
Considering it was one of the many gifts from Vegas and Gray, it was obviously enchanted.
I couldn’t help smiling, a sense of calm and centered peace wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I was glad we’d waited. For the longest time, the idea of being settled—let alone the thought of children—had felt like a fragile dream I wasn’t meant to touch.
But now, five years later? It finally felt right.
It was exciting, terrifying, and utterly wonderful all at once—a kind of joy that glowed brighter inside me with every passing day.
The nursery looked like something straight out of one of those picture-perfect magazines Gray had imported from the Earth realm—except better.
The space was vast, with high domed ceilings and ornate molding that carried the Horde’s signature gothic elegance but softened into something warm and inviting.
The crib, carved from rich blackwood, was etched with flowering vines that shimmered beneath the sunlight as if dusted with glitter.
As I moved to hang the mobile above it, it slipped from my hand and floated upward on its own, spinning once before settling perfectly over the crib.
Clearly, that was where it was meant to be.
My gaze drifted toward the tall windows, which had the perfect view of the summer gardens outside.
They were in full bloom, lush and wild, a symphony of color that contrasted beautifully with the dark celestial wallpaper.
The constellations painted across the walls shifted in slow, graceful patterns, like the true night sky.
Deep blues and purples dominated the room, though the blush of pink blankets and tiny stuffed animals already scattered across the space gave it a warmth that made my heart flutter with anticipation.
When the medical team had asked if I wanted to know the baby’s gender, I’d caved immediately.
And now, with only two months to go, we knew we were having a girl.
My mates had been a mix of nervous and ecstatic, but considering we were all ‘planners’ in our own chaotic way, I think they were secretly relieved we’d found out.
“Cairo, if you put those next to the pink ones, I swear to the Maker—” Lyric’s words dissolved into a string of irritated muttering as the brother in question shot him an unimpressed look.
The four of them were helping me this afternoon, attempting to tame the absolute chaos left behind from the baby shower.
There were folded piles of impossibly tiny onesies, stacks of blankets that still smelled faintly of lavender, and boxes of charms waiting to be hung.
It was technically something my mates would have happily done themselves, but this task had turned into… well, let’s not call it a punishment.
A consequence, maybe.
After all, what else do you call the “you need to help out more” assignment that followed blowing up an entire shed on Academy grounds during training?
I felt like this was a fairly reasonable ask!
Cairo folded a blanket with mechanical precision before offering, “I’m arranging by the material, not color.”
“Translation,” Relic called from near the window. “He’s making it up as he goes.”
Harland snorted, lifting a carved wooden rattle. “You’re one to talk. You’re gift for the baby shower was a bag of shiny rocks that you ‘borrowed’ from the Pixie Circle.’”
Something I was shocked they’d let him get away with.
“They’re crystals,” Relic defended with mock seriousness, motioning to the gift in question. “You never know what she will need them for! You’re just mad because mine was way better than yours.”
Honestly, for twelve year old boys, I was seriously impressed by all of their gifts.
My brothers—members of our family to the point that I couldn’t imagine it without them—had grown into extraordinary kids, and almost teenagers.
They were thriving at the Red Masques Academy, each of them carving out their own path that reflected who they felt they were meant to be.
Cairo trained directly with Everett and Rocket, the Academy’s necromancers.
Harland trained with the Red Masques warrior division, fighting alongside the kingdom’s best and—to my eternal amusement—most of my mates.
Cannon, Maddox, and Valerio had all taken turns trying to outmatch him in sparring, though rumor had it that the stronger his magic became, the harder that was getting.
Terrifying, yes—but also entirely predictable, considering what his future likely held.
I was just grateful he had a good head on his shoulders.
Lyric spent most of his free hours buried in the Academy’s grand library, apprenticing under the archivists and lorekeepers.
He’d grown into the quiet scholar of the group, his nose always in a book and his mind constantly filled with questions about the cosmos, gods, and ancient magic.
With so many people around us who’d lived through history, he was fast becoming a walking encyclopedia.
And Relic—well, Relic was still my wild card.
He trained when he felt like it, studied when it suited him, and somehow always managed to show up with pockets full of trinkets, feathers, coins, and stones from every corner of the territory.
He saw value in everything, even what others considered useless.
He was also the only one of them who stayed in somewhat regular contact with our mother—not often, maybe every few months, but enough to make him smile when word reached us.
I only hoped all of these normal life moments kept them distracted from whatever might still be waiting in the future.
“Maize,” Harland said, glancing up from the pile of neatly folded clothes. “Do you think she’ll like the butterflies?”
I smiled, letting my gaze sweep over the nursery before meeting his eyes. “I think she’ll love whatever her uncles picked out—including the butterflies.”
Lyric rolled his eyes, muttering, “If not, we can just redo it.”
Relic laughed, flopping back onto the rug with a grin. “That’s the spirit.”
Cairo sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the entire process had drained years off his life. “I’m surrounded by chaos.”
When the door to the nursery opened and Cannon stepped inside, I watched in amusement as he took in the scattered piles littering nearly every surface.
A faint grin tugged at his mouth. “Keep it up, boys—and then we’ve got something to do in the garden.”
All four of them groaned in perfect unison, and I bit back a laugh as Cannon fixed them with a hard, mock-serious look before turning toward the hall. I followed him out, raising a brow once the door closed behind us.
“Another job?” I asked, amusement threading through my tone.
“Not exactly,” he said, his grin widening. “Let’s just say the idea of it will make sure they take their time and focus on finishing that project.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head as we started down the corridor.
Cannon’s hand brushed mine briefly, warm and grounding.
At the top of the stairs, Zed waited, leaning casually against the railing until his gaze found mine.
Predictably, concern flickered through his lavender eyes as he straightened.
“You need a coat? Or a sweater?” he asked, scanning me from head to toe and taking in my sundress.
I smoothed a hand over his chest as Cannon snorted beside me, clearly amused. “Zed, it’s summer.”
Zed frowned. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get cold. I’ll grab you a sweater.”
“How about I just borrow your jacket?” I teased, stepping closer. He immediately shrugged it off and draped it over my shoulders. “I swear, you guys have gotten so protective lately.”
“We’ve always been protective. We’re just not hiding it as well anymore,” Cannon said.
That was, admittedly, an absolutely fair point.
Zed’s expression softened, his thumb brushing the curve of my hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I said honestly. “But my magic’s still…off. A bit on edge compared to normal. Probably because of her.” My hand drifted to my stomach, warmth blooming beneath my palm.
Or maybe it was more than just our daughter. Even now, my magic felt like something wild and restless that I could never fully define. It didn’t help that it had been altered again after I’d received that last surge of power from Oberon.
As I looked down at the swell of my stomach, I couldn’t help but wonder what our daughter’s magic would be like.
Not only would she carry the influence of my dual god heritage and the power I’d gained through every battle and divine encounter, but also the essence of each of my mates.
It was both thrilling and a little terrifying to imagine.
Still, I knew—no matter what her magic became—that I would love it. Even if it mirrored mine, even if it meant she’d one day have to face the same demons I had, I knew it would be impossible not to love every piece of her.
“Everyone’s gathering in the yard, but let’s get you something to eat first,” Cannon suggested, and I nodded in agreement as the three of us made our way down the stairs.
After two years of living here, the house we had built from the ground up had become a true home.
It wasn’t the old place on Academy grounds; we’d given ourselves a bit of distance from there, just enough to breathe.
Still, it was close enough that we could all continue teaching while giving my brothers and us plenty of space to truly spread out.
Most days, it felt downright domestic—the sweet smells drifting from the kitchen, the crackle of the fireplaces, and the sound of my familiars and Pip racing through the halls with the boys.
Ever since I’d found out I was pregnant, it had felt right to let my familiars roam freely rather than keeping them contained within me.
They loved it here, each one claiming their own favorite corner of the house as if they were house pets and not insanely magical creatures I was bonded to.
When we reached the kitchen, the scent of something sizzling on the griddle met me before I even stepped through the doorway.
Maddox stood at the stove, scowling down at a skillet that was smoking a little too much to be intentional. Chait leaned casually against the counter beside him, grinning as he offered, “Maybe turn the heat down next time.”
Maddox shot him a glare, but Chait only laughed and turned toward me, holding out a tall glass. “Smoothie for our goddess,” he announced with a dramatic bow.
I accepted it with a smile, returning with a quip of my own. “You’re only calling me that because you’re the reason I might be overtired this morning.”
“No, I’ll always call you that,” Chait said cheerfully, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But you are onto something there.”
Both he and Maddox had kept me up in the best way possible, and I absolutely wasn’t complaining.
Across the room, Philip lounged against the counter, flipping through an Earth realm baby catalog that had somehow made its way into our lives.
Without looking up, he asked, “Do we need one of these video camera things? To watch her? To monitor her pulse and heart rate? That might be a good idea, right?”
The small pinch between his brows almost made me laugh. Both Zed and Philip were the least likely to obsess over details, and yet now that I was pregnant, they’d both become walking bundles of anxiety.
I took a sip of my smoothie and raised a brow. “I mean, we could, but I doubt she’ll ever be put down long enough for it to matter.”
Cannon, pouring himself coffee, smirked. “Plus, I could probably hear both of those better than a machine.”
“Fair point,” Philip said absently, flipping another page. “Still, look how tiny this crib monitor is. It has a moonlight feature.”
Before I could respond, Charm appeared behind me, his arms sliding around my waist as he pressed a kiss to the side of my neck. I leaned back into him instinctively, frowning when I realized how tired he looked.
“Did you even sleep?” I asked softly as the others continued debating the merits of baby monitors.
He shook his head, his breath warm against my skin. “I was finishing the new course catalog for the God realm. Everett’s team sent through another batch of proposals, and I’ve been helping sort them.”
Of course he had. Leave it to Charm to turn administration into a late-night project.
He and the others were fully dedicated to ensuring the Red Masques students learned everything they could about every realm they might one day serve in.
As a teacher at the Academy myself, I completely supported it.
I’d even gone on field research in the Dark Fae territory—with help from the Obsidian Butterflies—to make sure our lessons were as accurate as possible.
Before I could scold him for overworking himself again, Zed moved past us to open the back door, letting in a soft breeze that carried the sound of voices from the garden.
Through the open doorway, I heard Valerio’s smooth, deep tone mingling with another’s—Cirdan.
Zed glanced back at me with a small smile. “Looks like Brielle and the others just arrived.”
I smiled warmly and walked toward the door, the noise of my family swirling around me. Something soft and certain settled in my chest.
Home.
Because of the men around me, I knew I would never feel lost in Fae again.