Epilogue
MAELOR
Mates are unreasonable creatures.
I did not understand this before Iris.
Before Iris, I was alone.
The distinction is important.
Alone, I had never needed to worry about where another person was. I had never wondered whether they were eating enough, sleeping enough, or walking directly towards danger because someone had made the unfortunate decision to require medical attention.
Now I had Iris.
And Iris had apparently decided every injured creature in Terrafeara belonged to her.
The latest example stood directly in front of her.
My mate listened intently while an Othrynn explained something involving a twisted ankle, three stubborn hunting animals, and a disagreement over whether he should have remained in bed.
The answer was obvious. He should have remained in bed. Instead, he had found Iris.
Now she was asking questions. Many questions. Far too many questions.
Iris made a thoughtful sound and crouched to examine his leg.
The male immediately brightened, and I narrowed my eyes. My shadows narrowed theirs while the Othrynn wisely looked away.
Good. At least one of us possessed survival instincts.
“You’re staring again.”
Iris did not look up from her examination.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
The Othrynn made the mistake of glancing between us, then at my shadows, then at me. The poor creature immediately discovered somewhere else to look.
Iris sighed. “Henny.”
The sound of my name from her lips—even though it was the ridiculous name she used for me around others—instantly improved my mood.
Slightly.
I moved closer.
My mate smiled without looking away from her patient. The familiar warmth of the bond rolled through me.
Contentment.
Affection.
Amusement.
The last one was directed entirely at me.
Unfair.
I settled one hand against her lower back, and immediately, the bond brightened.
Mine.
The thought arrived with the same certainty it always did.
Mine.
After all this time, the truth remained no less remarkable.
For years I had believed I was broken. Forgotten and left behind. The only unmated Hendroy in existence.
Then lightning had torn open the sky and dropped Iris directly into my world. The memory still felt impossible.
“I think you’ll live.” Iris stood.
The Othrynn looked relieved. I was relieved too. Not because of the ankle but because my mate was finally finished.
The male hurried away before Iris could discover additional injuries.
Wise. Very wise.
“I saw that.”
I looked down at her. “Saw what?”
“The glaring.”
“I was not glaring.”
Her laugh echoed through the cavern. The sound wrapped itself around my chest.
Warm.
Precious.
Mine.
The settlement around us continued moving. Humans and monsters crossed the large chamber carrying supplies, food, and equipment. Conversations rose and fell. Somewhere nearby, a child laughed.
The noise should have irritated me. Instead, I found myself tolerating it.
For Iris.
Everything returned to that.
Always.
The moment her attention shifted towards another group gathered near the far side of the cavern, I followed her gaze.
A human with a couple of Glowranthians. The human in particular spoke animatedly while the others listened. He moved constantly—his hands, his expression, his entire body. Energy without rest.
The sight was oddly familiar. “Sonny.”
Iris smiled. “You remember.”
I remembered everyone who spoke to my mate.
The human glanced in our direction, and his smile faded immediately.
Iris waved, and the human waved back, then seemed to realise what he was doing. His expression suggested immediate regret.
Iris laughed again, which drew my attention back to her. Always back to her.
The bond warmed.
Satisfied.
Complete.
Home.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the exit.
“I was speaking to people.”
“You have spoken to people.”
Her eyes narrowed. The expression never worked. Not on me.
Not anymore.
Or I at least pretended that was the case.
“I was helping.”
“You have helped.”
“Henny.”
“Iris.”
She huffed, but I felt the affection beneath it. The happiness, the belonging.
My shadows curled around her ankles as we walked.
Ahead of us, sunlight spilled through the cave entrance while behind us, the rebel settlement continued its endless activity.
Iris glanced over her shoulder one final time. Towards the camp. Towards Sonny—one of the few humans we’d come across since being in Terrafeara.
Something thoughtful crossed her face.
“What?”
For a moment, she remained silent. Then she sighed softly. “It’s strange.”
I waited. The humans rarely made sense immediately.
“All the others found their mates so quickly.”
My gaze shifted towards the yellow-haired human.
Sonny was speaking animatedly now, waving his arms while Varek, the rebel leader, attempted to interrupt him.
He didn’t appear successful.
“Shanae found her mate. I found you.” A smile touched her lips as she looked up at me before fading again. “It’s not just that, there are stories… theories. Human after human arriving here and stumbling into the one person they were meant to be with.”
Her attention returned to Sonny. “But not him.”
Something unexpectedly sad entered her voice. The sound tightened something in my chest.
“He pretends it doesn’t bother him,” she continued.
I considered the human. The laughter, the easy smile, the confidence. Iris was rarely wrong about people.
“He waits.” The words left her quietly.
Not a question but a certainty.
The bond pulsed softly between us.
Compassion.
Hope.
Concern.
All directed towards a human who did not even realise he was being discussed.
I drew her closer. “Perhaps his mate is delayed.”
A laugh escaped her. “That’s one way of putting it.”
The sound warmed something inside me.
Together, we stepped out into the sunlight. Behind us, Sonny’s laughter echoed through the cavern. Ahead of us waited home.
The forest air carried the familiar scents of foliage, life, and earth. Beside me, Iris tilted her face towards the sun and closed her eyes for a moment, the expression of contentment on her features stealing my attention as thoroughly now as it had the day I met her.
Perhaps more.
Two years had passed since lightning brought her into my world. Two years since I had felt her arrive. Two years since a stubborn human healer had decided the terrifying shadow creature everyone feared was worth saving.
Worth loving.
The bond pulsed warmly between us.
Home.
The word had once meant a cave.
Solitude.
Survival.
Now it meant something else entirely.
A laugh.
A stubborn argument.
A healer who collected injured creatures and impossible causes with equal enthusiasm.
It meant Iris.
My mate opened her eyes and immediately caught me looking at her. The smile that spread across her face was devastating.
“What?”
I considered pretending ignorance, then remembered I was terrible at it. “You are beautiful.”
Her groan echoed across the forest. I felt her embarrassment through the bond, felt the affection beneath it. The happiness.
“One day,” she informed me, “you’re going to learn how to flirt properly.”
“I do not need to learn.”
The laugh that escaped her wrapped itself around my heart, remaining my favourite sound in any world.
Iris shook her head and threaded her fingers through mine. Together, we began the journey home—a walk, at least until my mate inevitably decided walking was inefficient and demanded the shadows whisk us the rest of the way.
The thought made something warm settle in my chest.
Because that was Iris.
And, just as it had since the day lightning brought her to me, I found myself looking forward to every tomorrow we would share.
If you’d like to continue exploring Terrafeara, start with Solan (Monsters & Mates #1).