Epilogue Tash
Several weeks later
The kitchen smelled like home. I leaned into the window, arms crossed, and feet braced on the tile, just to remind myself that yes, this was real.
Chance's kitchen, warm as a bakery at six in the morning, golden light slanting off the pine cabinets.
Everything was greening up outside with a false spring, but the real show was happening in the clearing.
Fifi was airborne in a smooth, deliberate flight, corkscrewing up above the tree line, wings catching every blast of sunlight, then cutting a brutal s-turn and shooting toward the yard.
The wind barely kept up. She tucked the landing, legs bowed, tail swinging for balance, and came down so softly she barely dented the grass.
My kid. Fifi. A dragon, full throttle, with a toothy smile I could see from the damn kitchen.
I pressed a fist to my mouth, happiness bubbling within.
To the right, on the stone patio, Mere was queen of her own universe.
She'd drawn out a neat circle in white powder, probably salt and something smelly from Maeve's stash, and sat cross-legged, hands cupped over a flicker of flame.
Not just any flame, either. She snapped her fingers, and the color shifted, blue, then green, then a wild pink.
Her face was pure focus. A quiet girl who'd figured out her power and wasn't scared to play.
Huey had planted himself right beside her, apricot fur glowing in the sun, eyes closed, but he wasn't asleep. Every couple of seconds, his nostrils twitched, tracking the air for trouble. Nature's security system, set to "leaves are the enemy, scare them away."
Closer to me, perched in a square of light above the sink, Lola glowered at us all. She basked in the sunbeam, chin high, tail flicking. The princess of the apocalypse. If anyone was going to outlive the rest of us, it would be that cat.
I took a second just to watch it all. The girls, the dog, the cat, this house.
Chance's world, now mine too. The air was thick with scents, especially the scent of what had to be fresh bread.
Even from here, I could track every ingredient, rich egg, the sharp tang of yeast, and this undercurrent of honey that caught right at the back of my tongue.
On the counter to my right, my tablet glowed with a headline from The Daily Times.
SkyArc Construction. Permit, DENIED.
I grinned wide. I couldn't help it. The bastards had tried, and failed, and now the evidence was sitting here like a trophy.
Practicing, I pressed my fingers to the edge of the wood, dragging them along the grain. My senses, dragon sharp, now, every cell on high alert, caught things I would've missed before.
The bread in the oven? Not just bread. I could pick out the play between flour and salt, the smoky sweetness in the crust where the heat ran just a little too high. Even the butter in the dough had a signature. Bright and grassy, like late-summer fields.
Beyond the glass, grey clouds massed on the horizon. I tracked them, looking forward to flying among them.
Mere's magic looked different, too. I saw it in the heat blooming around her hands.
A glow invisible to the naked eye, but to me, it radiated orange and then blue, like the heart of a kiln.
When she twisted her fingers, the temperature climbed, the shimmer growing so clear it seemed to dance over the patio stones.
Even through the window, I could taste ozone, the hair-raising tang that always came with her best spells.
Livia stood at the far end of the kitchen. She pretended to read, but I knew that trick. My girls had used it for years. In reality, her gaze kept skipping to the window, even when she thought nobody was watching.
The first time I'd met Livia, she'd been all angles and concealed mercy. Her cheekbones could've cut steel, and every word came out like a command. Not now.
Now, the lines at her eyes softened each time she glanced at Mere. A smile, unguarded, not the brittle thing she used in public, flashed and faded, as if she couldn't help herself. When she watched Fifi land, her mouth twisted up, proud and, for just a second, almost shy.
She loved these kids.
It was weird as hell to have something in common with her. And perfect.
I kept rolling the sensory feed in my head, cataloguing everything. The tablet's faint hum, the bread perfume spiking with every oven timer beep, the breeze on the grass outside, broken only by the occasional thump of dragon wings or Mere's quiet laughter when she nailed a new spell.
My body ran hot, even in the stillness. That was Taryn's fault. She'd cranked up my core temp to the point where the thought of summer made me nervous. The power was addictive, sometimes terrifying. My skin hummed with it, a living generator.
I traced the edge of the window, nails tapping. The world looked alien, sort of, but also sharper than it ever had before.
Fifi lined up for another launch. This time, she took her angle from the side, wings tucked until the last moment. She shot up, spiral-banked, then hovered, dead steady, mid-air, before arrowing back toward the ground.
She stuck the landing. Not even a skid. Just perfect, all the way.
Mere cheered from her circle, waving both hands. The spell-fire burst into blue, then faded.
Huey opened one lazy eye and exhaled, convinced nothing out there could possibly threaten his girls.
The way Fifi and Mere had changed, just in the last month, nearly split my heart. They were at peace. Even their bodies looked different. They were taller, stronger, posture set like they owned the mountain.
They’d both started their periods, finally. Puberty had come at last.
It was. Not. fun.
If you'd asked me a year ago if I'd ever belong somewhere, this would not have been the answer. But here we were. Even Lola seemed to approve, blinking in her patch of sun, then tucking her paws in and going to sleep.
Another timer beeped. The bread would be done in five, maybe six minutes.
My nose told me it was exactly right. Still a touch pale on top, but the crust below had started to caramelize, just enough to crackle.
The yeast in the dough buzzed so strong I could almost taste the air turning sweet.
No wonder the dragon bakery did so well.
They could tell when every item was baked to perfection. Cheaters.
I leaned against the counter, hugging myself tight. The paperwork, the bread, the view out the window, all of it was proof the hell of the last few weeks was finally behind us.
But peace was not what I expected. Not this much of it, not all at once.
My girls, safe.
Livia, the secret softie.
And out there, in the sunshine, dragons and witches and dogs and cats, all in their own kind of heaven.
I let a smile break free, small enough nobody'd see it but me.
The world had nearly chewed us up. Now, it was ours again.
I kept my post at the window. The show never got old. Every new flight, each spin of magic, every moment my girls looked less like survivors and more like champions.
Let SkyArc stew. Let the Order rot. My family was living free.
The oven timer chimed its warning before I could finish my mental victory lap. Chance barreled into the kitchen as Livia stepped outside.
His hair was a mess, dark curls rumpled. The battered black t-shirt clung to his shoulders, sleeves rolled up past the muscle. His eyes flicked to the girls outside, then back to me, and the look he aimed my way was pure hunger and not for the food.
He set the tray on the counter. The smell doubled in the warm air. Yeasty, sharp, so rich I almost swooned. The rolls themselves were gorgeous with glossy tops.
He wasted zero time. Before I could comment on the art display, he moved behind me, molded himself to my spine, and wrapped his arms around my waist. His chin dropped to my neck, and lips landed just below my jaw.
I arched back, letting him anchor me for a heartbeat. The entire mountain could have exploded, and I wouldn't have let go. Even the kitchen, with its sunlit windows and cat who clearly disapproved, seemed to hold its breath for this.
I turned until I faced him. For a blink, I just soaked it in, the heat of him, the fresh-baked rolls, the sun bouncing off every surface, and the sound of Fifi howling in victory from the clearing. Like we'd all landed in a reality where people actually got what they wanted.
"Hey." His thumb stroked my hip, grounding. "You okay?"
That was the question, wasn't it? I stared at him, heart pounding, then took his hand. Big and warm, I placed it low, right below my belly button, exactly where it needed to be to make my point.
His brows drew together, confusion at first.
"I thought I was just nervous. I felt off, but now I know. It wasn't nerves."
He blinked.
The realization hit him all at once. Every muscle in his body tensed, like he was holding back a hurricane. His hand curled around my stomach, and the expression on his face… I'd never seen that kind of shock and pride and hope stacked together.
The pans above the stove rattled. Not subtle, not even close. Caden must have been celebrating like it was the end of the world.
Chance's eyes burned gold, wild with it. He hauled me up, nearly lifting me off the ground, and growled right into my hair. "Mine. Ours. Always." It sounded more like Caden than Chance, but they were both mine.
Ours. Taryn agreed with them.
He buried his face in my neck, words muffled but thunderous. "Say it again. Please."
I did, but out loud this time. "Ours."
Chance kept a death grip on my waist. He kissed my temple, then my cheek, then, just because he could, the tip of my nose.
Outside, Fifi shrieked and executed another wild aerial. Mere shouted approval. The sound cut straight through the windows.
Chance grinned, and his eyes shone.
"We're going to be okay," I said, needing to hear it out loud.
He nodded, solemn. "We're going to be fucking incredible."
There was nothing but the two of us, the lingering heat of the oven, and Caden's joy shaking the kitchen cookware like it was the Fourth of July.
Chance caught my hand, laced our fingers, then pressed his palm to my belly again. This time, he didn't let go.
Mine. Ours. Always.
Sometimes you get a second chance. Sometimes you have to grab the miracle with both hands and hold on, even if your knuckles go white.
So I did.