Epilogue
LYRA
It was my favorite spot in all of Gyoria, especially when sharing it with Terran.
Just beyond the palace walls, carved into the cliffs, he had a narrow terrace called the Starlight Overlook carved out for me. At night-time, as it was now, the skies shimmered brighter than anywhere else, the moon casting a silver light that turned the ice-crusted stone into a mirror.
The overlook was a quiet refuge from duty where the rest of Gyoria remained unaware of our presence in this spot.
Terran’s hand brushed mine as he sat up beside me.
“What are you thinking?”
As my fingers wove through his, I pointed out one star in particular.
“From my window at the Aetherian palace, I could see Velastra clearly most nights. Do you know of it?”
Terran chuckled. “Gyorians aren’t known to stargaze.”
Taking that as a “no,” I enlightened him.
“It’s known as the Crown of the Gate and is said to shine brightest on the nights a human comes through.
Aetherian lore whispers that it’s not just a star, but the lingering ember of Elydor’s own magic, watching over those who dare to walk between realms. Couples often make promises beneath it, believing Velastra binds hearts as firmly as it guards the veil. ”
“Interesting. So it shone brighter last eve, then?”
I thought back to the whispers I’d received from Mev with a smile. “I assume so.” Turning to Terran, I searched the lines of his face, wondering what he was thinking as well.
“I am happy for her. For them.”
“As am I. Though I do wonder why it took nearly forty moons to relay the message. They’ve been coming through for half that time.”
A new Council had been set up, Kael among its members. Thus far, the transition to the Gate’s reopening had been going extraordinarily well. Tales of the reunions, both in Elydor and the human realm, warmed the hearts of all who heard them.
Or perhaps, not all. In Gyoria, resistance to the Gate still ranged from simmering anger to open hostility, but Terran’s combination of strength and compassion had thus far tempered any additional rebellions in his father’s name.
“Remember,” I reminded him, “Galfrid did not simply have to reunite with his partner. She had to fall in love with him again. Not an easy feat to accomplish twice.”
“I could do it,” he boasted. “You would fall in love with me in every lifetime.”
“So humble,” I teased. “Though I do not doubt that I would.”
He was my perfect complement. A rock when one was needed. A companion and friend. But also, the lover I never knew I needed.
“As I would fall in love with you again, and again.”
Terran leaned forward and kissed me softly. The dichotomy of his kisses, and touches, soft at times and others coming from the king of a people forged from stone, was something to which I’d never become accustomed.
“Do you think she will ever be convinced to come through?” he asked.
I thought about it for a moment. “I do. Galfrid can be quite persuasive. And of course she will want to see Mev. It might simply ease her into the idea of our world. There is likely a block there from having been traumatized the first time, after she was kidnapped. But hopefully, there is some residual memory, too, Galfrid can explore.”
The change in his expression when I mentioned the kidnapping was immediate.
“Terran—”
“Nay,” he said, “do not apologize for mentioning it. Pretending it did not happen, or that I allowed myself to be so taken with the idea of hating humans for something they did not do on purpose… remembering will remind me, remind us all, to do better.”
He truly had come full circle, as Kael had before him. A part of me had, as well. My own prejudices against Gyorians were stronger than I’d realized before living here.
I looked back up into the sky.
“Let this overlook be our promise,” I whispered, “that no matter what unrest rises, no matter what trials await, we will always return here.”
“Aye,” Terran whispered back. “And that no matter how many realms divided us, love would find a way to bind us again.”