Chapter 8 #2
“We should though. That’s my point.” Finn sits up straighter. “When was the last time any of us had a vacation? A real one? Not recovering from near-death. Not hiding from assassins. An actual, genuine, nothing-is-trying-to-kill-us vacation.”
Silence.
Darian shakes his head. “Never.”
“Same,” Aspen says.
“Dragons don’t take vacations,” Kieran says.
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re how many years old and you’ve never had fun at a beach?”
“I’ve been to many beaches.”
“For fun. Not for brooding purposes.”
“There’s nothing wrong with reflecting near the ocean.”
“You just called it reflecting. That’s just brooding with better PR.”
“The waves are soothing.”
“The waves are for swimming. And drinking. And making out with beautiful women. Not brooding — sorry, reflecting.”
“I have made out with beautiful women at beaches.”
Dead silence.
Every head turns toward Kieran.
His expression doesn’t change, but there’s something almost smug underneath it.
“When?” Finn demands.
“Centuries ago.”
“How many centuries?”
“Several.”
“That doesn’t count!”
“It absolutely counts.”
“You haven’t kissed anyone in centuries and you think that qualifies as beach experience?”
“I’ve kissed Kaia.”
“At a beach?”
“Not yet.”
“Then it doesn’t count!”
“When we reach the southern coast,” Kieran says calmly, “I will kiss her at the beach. And then it will count.”
Finn stares at him. “Did you just… make a future plan? A fun future plan? Not a battle strategy or a protection detail — an actual date?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Who are you and what have you done with the brooding dragon?”
Kieran’s mouth curves. “Perhaps I’m learning.”
“From who? Certainly not from me. You never listen to me.”
“I listen. I simply choose to ignore you.”
“That’s worse!”
The laughter that follows is real. Warm. The kind of sound I didn’t know I needed until I heard it.
Even Kieran laughs. Small and rusty, like he’s out of practice, but there. An actual laugh from the ancient bastard who spent centuries forgetting how.
Kaia shifts in the furs, mumbling something, and we all go quiet.
She settles. Doesn’t wake. But her lips curve a little more.
“She’s smiling,” Darian says softly.
“She can feel us through the bond,” Malrik says. “Even asleep. She knows we’re here.”
“What does she feel right now?” Finn asks. “Through the connection. What are we projecting?”
I reach for the bond. Try to identify the hum of it.
Warmth. Safety. Belonging. Something too big for a single word.
“Home,” I say quietly. “She feels home.”
The word sits there.
And something shifts. Not physically. Something in the bonds themselves. In what we’ve become.
“The southern coast,” Kieran says after a moment. “Before the corruption. It was beautiful. White sand. Clear water. The kind of warmth that sinks into your bones and stays.”
“You remember it?” Aspen asks.
“I remember everything.” His voice goes soft. “It was one of her mother’s favorite places. Solveig used to take Kaia there when she was small. Before. She’d chase the waves and Solveig would watch from the shore, and for a few hours everything was simple.”
Something tightens in my chest.
Kaia doesn’t remember her mother. Not really. Just fragments. Feelings. The ache of something missing.
But Kieran remembers.
“Then we take her there,” I say. “When the realm heals. When she’s ready.”
“We make new memories,” Malrik adds. “In the same place. Give her something good to hold onto.”
“Vacation,” Finn says dreamily. “Sand. Sun. Alcohol.”
“Alcohol?” Aspen raises an eyebrow.
“I’ve earned it. We’ve all earned it. After the Gate and the shadows and the God and the—” He waves a hand. “Everything. I want to get drunk on a beach and not worry about anything trying to eat me.”
“That’s fair,” Darian says.
“It’s extremely fair.”
“We’ll need supplies,” Malrik says, and there’s something almost hopeful in his voice. Like he’s letting himself think about a future that isn’t just survival. “If we’re actually doing this. Food. Shelter. Whatever passes for beach chairs in Absentia.”
“Do beach chairs exist in Absentia?” Finn asks.
“They will when I’m done,” Aspen says.
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Yes.”
I laugh. Can’t help it. The sound surprises me — rough and real, pulled from somewhere deep.
This. This is what we almost never got to have.
Kaia mumbles again in her sleep. Something that sounds like a name. Maybe several names.
We all go still. Watching.
She doesn’t wake. Just sighs and settles deeper.
“She’s dreaming,” Kieran says softly. “I can feel it through the bond. It’s… peaceful. For once.”
“No nightmares?” Darian asks.
“No nightmares.”
“Good.”
The fire crackles. The silence is comfortable now. Warm.
“Family,” Finn says after a while. Testing the word. “That’s what this is, right? Some weird, dysfunctional, complicated—”
“Family,” Kieran agrees. No hesitation.
Finn stops short. Stares at him.
“Did you just… agree with me? Without arguing?”
“You weren’t wrong.” Kieran’s gaze moves across all of us.
Something ancient and guarded finally unlocking in his expression.
“I’ve spent centuries alone. Watching from the edges.
Convincing myself I didn’t need — that I couldn’t have—” He stops.
His jaw works. “This is family. The first one I’ve had since my father died. The first one I’ve let myself want.”
The words land heavy.
Finn’s expression does something complicated. For once, he doesn’t joke.
“I didn’t have one either,” he says quietly. “Not really. Not one that wanted me.”
“Same,” Darian says. Almost inaudible.
“Mine was—” Malrik shakes his head. “Complicated. Broken in ways I’m still figuring out.”
I think about our father. The man who beat us. Branded us. Tried to control what we’d become.
“Mine tried to destroy us,” I say. “Made us into weapons instead of sons.”
Aspen is quiet for a moment. Then: “We only had each other. Torric and me. After our sister… That was enough. But this—”
He looks around at all of us. At Kaia sleeping in the furs. At Mouse purring. At Walter pulsing soft violet near the ceiling.
“This is more,” he finishes. “This is what family should have been.”
Finn exhales shakily. “Well. Shit. We really are doing feelings around the campfire.”
“You started it,” Malrik points out.
“I know. I immediately regret it.”
“No you don’t.”
“No. I don’t.” Finn scrubs a hand over his face. “This is — I don’t know how to do this. The sincerity thing. It feels wrong coming out of my mouth.”
“You’re doing fine,” Kieran says. Gentle, which is strange coming from him.
Finn laughs. Wet. Broken. “Great. The ancient dragon thinks I’m doing fine. My life is complete.”
“It’s a high compliment. I don’t think most people are doing fine.”
“What a glowing endorsement.”
“Take what you can get.”
Finn grins. It’s shaky around the edges, but it’s real. “Family, then. All of us. Even when we’re idiots.”
“Especially when we’re idiots,” Aspen says.
“Speak for yourself,” Malrik mutters. “I’m never an idiot.”
“You walked into a wall last week because you were watching Kaia.”
“That wall was poorly placed.”
“It was the same wall that’s been there for centuries.”
“Poorly. Placed.”
Finn cackles. Darian chokes on a laugh. Even Kieran’s mouth is twitching.
This. This.
I look around at all of them. These men I didn’t choose. Didn’t expect. Would die for without hesitation.
Family.
Brothers.
“She saved the world,” I say after a while. Quiet. Certain. “Now we take care of her.”
Kieran looks at Kaia. Watches her breathe.
“Always,” he murmurs.
And I know he means it.
We all do.
Mouse purrs louder near her feet. Walter pulses warm.
The fire crackles.
And for the first time since this all started — maybe for the first time in my life — I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Surrounded by brothers.
Watching over the woman who made us a family.
When she wakes… we follow her wherever she wants to go.