6
The morning sun painted the village in a sleepy golden haze, the kind that made everything feel softer — slower. Rylan sat on a wooden bench just outside the bakery, hands resting on his knees, heart thundering louder than it ever did before battle.
He could face down packs of rogue wolves. Lead armies. Command entire kingdoms.
But nothing had prepared him for this.
The front door creaked open behind him.
He turned — and there she was.
Lyra.
Barefoot, tangled curls flying, one of her sleeves rolled up and the other falling over her tiny hand. She was carrying a stuffed fox in one arm and a slightly lopsided drawing in the other. There was something in her smile that made time stop.
“Hi again,” she said as if no time had passed at all.
Rylan stood slowly, lowering himself to her level. “Good morning, Lyra.”
She beamed and plopped down beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I made you something.” She shoved the paper toward him.
He took it with care.
It was a drawing — crude, colorful, and full of life. A tall man with golden eyes stood next to a little girl with starry curls. Between them was a glowing moon and what might’ve been a castle, drawn in crayon blue.
“That’s us,” she explained proudly. “You don’t look exactly like that. But close enough.”
Rylan’s throat tightened. “You’re really good at drawing.”
She shrugged. “I practice a lot. Sometimes when I miss you.”
His breath caught, and for a long moment, he couldn’t say anything.
Lyra glanced up at him, then suddenly leaned closer and sniffed. “Yup. Definitely you.”
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You smell like you do in my dreams. Like snow and smoke. And cedar trees.”
Rylan gave a short laugh — part startled, part overwhelmed. “That’s… incredibly specific.”
“I have a good nose,” she said matter-of-factly. “Mommy says I’m extra sensitive. That sometimes I feel things before they happen. Like the time I told her the rain was coming even though the sky was blue. And it did!”
“She’s not wrong,” he said gently. “You’re very special, Lyra.”
Her eyes lit up. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
She beamed again, kicking her legs off the bench. “Do you wanna see my fort?”
Rylan smiled. “Lead the way, Princess.”
Evanna stood at the window, one hand gripping the curtain, the other clutched around her stomach like it could hold in all the feelings threatening to spill out.
She watched them cross the small garden together — her daughter leading the King of Wolves like he was just a playmate.
They disappeared behind a thicket of berry bushes where Lyra had once stacked up mossy logs and laid down blankets to create her "Secret Moon Fort.” She could hear her daughter’s laugh — that pure, wild giggle that always came when she was free.
And Rylan was laughing too.
It made something inside Evanna twist and ache.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She was supposed to keep them separate. Keep her daughter safe from royal bloodlines, titles, the weight of a world she wasn’t ready for. But now… watching them, she wasn’t so sure.
Because Lyra had never looked at anyone the way she looked at him.
Like she’d known him forever.
In the fort, Lyra was rambling about moon phases and acorn necklaces. Rylan sat cross-legged on the floor of blankets, genuinely listening as she handed him one "gift" after another — a rock that “might be a magic crystal,” a pine cone, and a stick shaped like a sword.
“I’m gonna be a warrior one day,” she said seriously. “Not a princess. Or maybe both.”
“I think you’d be great at both.”
She grinned. “You’re really nice. I don’t think you’re fake.”
He blinked. “Fake?”
“Mommy says sometimes people pretend to care about you but they don’t really mean it. But you do. I can tell.”
Rylan’s chest tightened again. He didn’t know how this little girl kept cracking him wide open with every sentence.
“I do mean it,” he said quietly. “I care about you more than you’ll ever know.”
She nodded like she already knew. “Do you think the moon brought you back to me?”
He looked up at the pale sky, his heart aching in the best way.
“Maybe it did.”
That evening, when Evanna came to collect Lyra from the fort, she expected to see awkwardness or silence — something to signal that this was a mistake.
But instead, she saw them napping. Side by side.
Her daughter curled against his chest. Rylan’s arm draped protectively around her. Both breathing in perfect rhythm.
Evanna’s eyes stung.
Because for the first time in years… her daughter looked whole.