Chapter 21 #3
"Actually," Willa interjected, looking between us thoughtfully. "Have you two given any thought to working together?"
Charick's ears perked forward with interest. "That's not a bad idea. Enslak was one of the finest warriors in our generation. Before..." He trailed off, then continued more firmly. "His skills haven't diminished. If anything, everything he's survived has made him sharper."
"I know that's true," Niki said, squeezing my hand while a slight smile played at her lips. "I've seen him in action. He's saved my life more than once."
Heat rose in my face at the praise. "I'm not sure I'm ready for—"
"No pressure," Willa said quickly, raising her hands. "Just something to consider. You two already work well together. You trust each other. That's rare and valuable. And it would give you purpose without tying you down to one place. Asad Intelligence operates across the galaxy."
"Missions on our own terms," Niki added, warming to the idea. "We could choose what we take. Build something together."
I looked down at our joined hands, considering.
Partnership. Purpose. But on our terms, in our time.
"Maybe," I said. "When we're ready."
Titus had made his way back to me, tugging on my leg insistently. "Un-un! Play!"
I lifted him again, and he pointed toward the viewport. "Stars! Big stars!"
"Yes," I said as I carried him to the window. "Those are stars. Suns, actually. Each one has planets orbiting around it. Worlds we haven't even explored yet."
He stared out at the vast expanse of space, his small hand pressed against the transparisteel, leaving tiny fingerprints. "Pretty."
"Very pretty," I agreed.
Charick joined us at the viewport, his hand settling on my shoulder. "He likes you," he said quietly. "I wasn't sure how he'd react. He's usually shy around new people."
"I'm not new people," I said, warmth blooming in my chest. "I'm family."
"Yes," Charick said, his grip tightening briefly. "You are. And I'm glad you're here to be part of his life. To be his uncle. To teach him things, the way Father taught us."
The memory surfaced—Father showing us how to track, how to read the forest, how to move silently through the underbrush. His patience. His pride when we succeeded. His gentle correction when we failed.
The warmth in my chest twisted suddenly, becoming something sharp and painful.
"I wish..." The words caught in my throat. "I wish I could have seen him again. Before."
Charick's hand stilled on my shoulder.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with shared loss.
I closed my eyes against the pain. "I hate that he died not knowing I was alive."
"Don't," Charick said, his voice firm but gentle. "Don't do that to yourself. Father wouldn't want that."
"But I never got to tell him," my voice broke. "That I survived. That I remembered everything he taught me. That those lessons kept me alive when nothing else could. I never got to thank him."
Titus stirred in my arms, sensing my distress.
I forced myself to breathe steadily, trying to calm the storm building inside me.
"He knew," Mother's voice came from behind us—I hadn't heard her approach. "Enslak, he knew. A father always knows what lives in his son's heart."
I looked down at Titus, who had pressed his small hand against my chest, right over my heart, as if he could feel it breaking. His dark eyes were solemn, too knowing for such a young child.
"Un-un sad?" he asked softly.
"Yes," I said, refusing to lie to him. "Un-un is sad. But that's okay. Sometimes we get sad about people we love."
He nodded as if this made perfect sense, then leaned his head against my shoulder in a gesture of pure comfort.
I held him close, feeling his tiny, precious weight as we stood together watching the stars spread across the inky sky above.
After a moment, Titus squirmed, wanting down.
I set him on his feet, and he immediately toddled over to Niki, climbing into her lap with the confidence of a child who knew he'd be welcomed.
"Ni-ni," he said, patting her cheeks. "Pretty."
"Thank you," Niki laughed. "You're pretty handsome yourself."
He giggled and settled against her, his thumb finding his mouth while his eyes grew heavy.
Within minutes, he was asleep, his small body completely relaxed and trusting.
Mother moved to stand beside me, her hand finding mine. "I'm so happy you're here. Alive. Happy." She swiped at the tears welling in her eyes.
The room fell quiet, filled only with Titus's soft breathing and the distant hum of the city.
We stood there—family, old and new, blood and chosen.
And I felt something I hadn't felt in over a century. Peace.
Not the absence of pain. Not the erasure of trauma.
But the deep, abiding knowledge that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, with people who loved me. Who accepted me. Who saw me not as a broken thing to be fixed or a lost cause to be mourned, but as a person still becoming.
Not the person I'd been before—that Enslak was gone, lost to time and trauma.
But the person I was now.
A survivor. A mate. A brother. An uncle. A son.
Enslak.
Whole. Healing. Home.