Epilogue
One year later…
Sherae’s twin moons hung low on the horizon as the Vagabond broke atmosphere, painting the ocean below in ribbons of silver and gold.
Doren adjusted the descent angle, his hands moving across the console in the automatic way of a pilot who’d made this approach dozens of times.
Twelve months. That’s how long they’d been running this route—Pasfal Station to the Outer Reaches, back through Kaisarian space, and finally home to Sherae.
The familiar rhythm of it still surprised him sometimes.
Doren va Karr, the smuggler who’d spent fifteen years running from anything that resembled stability, had a home.
“Ari’s finally asleep.” Emma’s voice preceded her into the cockpit, warm and slightly tired. She slid into the copilot’s chair with the grace of someone who’d long since learned to navigate the ship’s narrow corridors. “I swear she gets more energetic every week.”
“She’s almost two. Apparently that’s what they do.”
“Did your research tell you that?”
“Faith’s children told me that. Repeatedly. Usually while climbing on me.”
She laughed, and the sound settled something in his chest the way it always did.
He watched her from the corner of his eye as she gazed out at the approaching planet—the curve of her cheek, the way the console lights caught the dark waves of her hair.
Beautiful. After twelve months of waking up beside her, he still hadn’t gotten used to it.
Probably never will.
“How long until we land?”
“Twenty minutes. I sent word ahead—Athtar’s preparing the guest house.”
“You mean our house.”
“That too.” He smiled at her. The small dwelling they’d claimed on Athtar’s property had started as a temporary arrangement, a place to stay between voyages.
Somewhere along the way, it had become something else entirely.
Emma had hung curtains. She’d planted flowers in containers by the door.
She’d made it theirs in ways that still caught him off guard.
He’d never had a home before. Not really. The refugee ship had been survival. His father’s estate had been a place where he wasn’t wanted. The Vagabond had been freedom, but a solitary kind—the freedom of having nothing to lose and no one to lose it with.
Now he had everything to lose.
And somehow, impossibly, that made him feel richer rather than more afraid.
“I was thinking,” she said, her voice carefully casual in a way that immediately caught his attention. “After this trip, maybe we could stay for a while. Longer than usual.”
“Longer?”
“A few months. Maybe more.” She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze fixed on the approaching coastline. “Ari’s getting old enough that the constant travel might not be good for her. She needs stability. Friends her own age. A chance to actually put down roots.”
His tail flicked against the console—an unconscious tell that he’d never been able to fully control around her. Something in her tone didn’t match the words. She wasn’t lying, exactly, but she wasn’t telling the whole truth either.
“We could do that,” he said carefully. “The trading route practically runs itself at this point. Rjmar could handle the Outer Reaches shipments, and the Imperial liaison—”
“N’mar. Her name is N’mar.”
“—N’mar has been surprisingly not terrible about the reporting requirements. A few months on Sherae wouldn’t cause any problems.” He paused, watching her profile. “Is that really what this is about? Ari?”
Her hands twisted in her lap. A nervous gesture. His Emma, who had stared down an Imperial advisor without flinching, who had held a baby against her chest and dared the universe to take her, was nervous.
The descent alarm chimed, and he forced his attention back to the controls. Whatever was going on, it would have to wait until they were safely on the ground. But he didn’t miss the way her shoulders relaxed slightly when he let the subject drop.
Soon, he promised himself. I’ll find out soon.
Athtar met them at the landing pad with hearty shoulder slap that almost knocked him off his feet.
“You’re late,” the big Elginar rumbled, setting him back down with a thump. “Faith has been checking the scanners every hour.”
“We hit a debris field near the Pasfal relay. Nothing serious.”
“Nothing serious, he says.” Athtar’s massive blue hand landed on Doren’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “This is what I get for being friends with a smuggler. ‘Nothing serious’ could mean anything from a minor delay to a running battle with pirates.”
“There were no pirates this time.”
“This time.”
Emma had already descended the ramp with Ari in her arms, and Faith was hurrying across the pad to meet her. Doren watched the two women embrace—careful of the sleeping toddler between them—and felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest.
Six months ago, he’d made a deal with the Empire because he couldn’t protect the people he loved on his own. He’d expected to spend every moment chafing against Imperial restrictions, counting the days until he could find a way to escape. Instead, he’d discovered something unexpected.
It wasn’t just about protection anymore. It was about belonging.
Faith’s children came running from the house—three small bodies of various sizes hurtling towards them with the boundless energy of youth. Ari woke up at the commotion, her dark eyes blinking open, and immediately began squirming to get down and join the chaos.
“Let her go,” Athtar advised, his deep voice warm with amusement. “She’ll never forgive you if you keep her from the others.”
Emma set Ari on her feet, and the silver-skinned toddler immediately toddled towards the other children with a determined expression that reminded Doren painfully of her mother.
Not her biological mother—they still knew nothing about Ari’s origins beyond what the outpost had revealed—but Emma.
The woman who had claimed this child from the moment she’d found her, who had fought pirates and fled Grorn and stared down Imperial bureaucrats to keep her safe.
Her mother in every way that matters.
“Come,” Athtar said, slapping Doren’s back hard enough to make him stumble. “Faith has prepared dinner, and if we’re late, she’ll blame me somehow. She always does.”
“How is that my problem?”
“Everything is your problem when you’re mated, my friend. You’ll learn.”
Mated. The word should have made him uncomfortable. Six months ago, it would have sent him running for the nearest exit. But now, watching Emma laugh at something Faith had said, her face lit with genuine joy...
Now it just felt like truth.
Dinner was chaos in the best possible way.
Athtar and Faith’s home was large by Sherae standards, built to accommodate a growing family and frequent visitors.
The main room opened onto a terrace overlooking the ocean, and the table had been extended to seat everyone—adults, children, and one very messy toddler who kept attempting to share her food with anyone who came within reach.
“No, sweetheart.” Emma gently redirected Ari’s hand before she could deposit a handful of mashed vegetables in Doren’s lap. “That’s for eating, not sharing.”
Ari’s expression suggested she found this rule deeply unreasonable.
“She has opinions,” Faith observed, her intelligent eyes crinkling with amusement behind her glasses. “Strong ones. I wonder where she gets that from.”
“Certainly not from me,” Doren said dryly.
“Certainly not.” Emma’s tone matched his, but her eyes were warm when they met his across the table. “You’re famously easygoing and agreeable.”
“I am. Ask anyone.”
“I am anyone, and I’m telling you—”
“Children,” Athtar interrupted, his deep voice cutting through their banter. “Behave, or I’ll separate you.”
“You couldn’t if you tried,” Doren shot back, but he was grinning.
This. This was what he’d never known he was missing. The warmth of a shared meal, the easy teasing of people who knew each other well, the comfortable chaos of family life.
He’d spent years telling himself he didn’t need any of it.
That freedom meant having no ties, no obligations, nothing that could be used against him.
He’d watched Athtar build this life with Faith and told himself it wasn’t for him, that he was made for the spaces between stars, not the solid ground of home.
Idiot. Past-Doren had been a complete idiot.
The evening progressed in the familiar rhythm of old friendships.
The children eventually wore themselves out and were bundled off to bed, Ari included—she’d fallen asleep in Emma’s arms and been carried to the small room that had become hers during their visits.
The adults moved to the terrace with glasses of Athtar’s excellent wine, and the conversation shifted to the matters that couldn’t be discussed in front of young ears.
“Tanaca’s been pushing for another meeting,” Athtar said, his massive frame settling into a chair that creaked under his weight. “He’s received reports from the frontier—Grorn activity near the Outer Reaches.”
Doren’s relaxation evaporated. “How near?”
“Near enough that the Imperial Council is concerned. They want to know if you’ve uncovered anything that might explain the increased presence.”
“I’ve heard rumors. Nothing concrete.” Doren swirled his wine, watching the liquid catch the moonlight. “The Grorn have been moving resources towards the edge of mapped space for months. Whatever they’re looking for, they haven’t found it yet.”
“Another waystation?”
“Maybe. Or maybe something else entirely.” He’d spent six months following fragments of information, piecing together ancient star charts and half-remembered legends.
The path to the Vault was still unclear, but one thing had become certain: the Grorn were searching for the same thing. And they were getting closer.
“Tanaca wants Ari tested again.”
Emma’s voice was quiet but firm. She’d been watching the conversation with the careful attention she brought to everything, and now her gaze met Doren’s across the terrace.
“Tested how?”