Epilogue #2
Steele’s head snapped up as his eyes narrowed, and I couldn’t help but laugh—before wincing as Sylo flapped so hard he stumbled forward, feathers ruffling in every direction.
Xavier tried to copy him and ended up rolling into the grass, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
It was only seconds before they stood back up to continue their attempt.
Honestly, I was constantly caught somewhere between humor and concern when it came to the two of them.
Their “flight” was little more than a series of uneven hops and wild flails, all elbows and determination. But every time they managed to lift off, even for a single jump, they shouted with pure joy, unrestrained sounds that cracked something open in me every single time.
“That sounds about right,” I said to Bastian. “To be fair, I’m still exhausted from training yesterday.” So we are all getting a bit older.
“Need a shoulder massage?” Bastian asked with a wink, and I gave him a curious look—because honestly, that sounded great—but he wasn’t the best at keeping touches platonic, even all these years later.
“I feel like if I ask you for a shoulder massage, we need to be alone.” I mused.
“Good call, Darling.” He chuckled, lifting me out of my chair and into his lap before kissing my shoulder gently so we could watch our sons’ continued flight attempts.
After a few minutes, the twins abandoned their “flying” practice in favor of chasing each other in uneven circles, their laughter echoing through the courtyard.
Above us, the sky was filled with what I’d started calling morning traffic, especially on weekends when the markets overflowed with vendors from both Alfemir and the wyvern mountains.
Wyverns drifted through the upper currents, their wings casting broad shadows as they glided over the rooftops.
Angels moved among them, patrols and citizens weaving easily through shared airspace.
It was strange to think that not so long ago, the two groups couldn’t cross paths without Alfemir’s angels attempting to “tame” the wyverns.
The wyverns still held their kingdom within the mountains, but there was an open corridor now, a clear stretch of sky and forest path that wound through the cliffs, linking their realm to Alfemir for trade and travel.
Precious stones, flowers, silks, and spices—each brought color and scent to the city’s markets until they were as vibrant as the busy skies above.
Niz, naturally, specialized in trade and interactions between the two kingdoms, serving as the council’s lead on relations between Alfemir’s growing population of new citizens and the wyvern kingdom still ruled by his parents in the mountains.
But it wasn’t just commerce that passed through that corridor. Friends did. Families. The few days Alfemir’s civilians had spent hiding in those mountains during the war had gone a long way toward healing the distance that once divided us.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Gabe asked, coming to join us.
My brow bunched together at the question.
Tomorrow, I’d be proctoring the first round of placement tests for the academy this year.
It had become my work, the way I stayed connected to what came after the war.
Noah had been named an Archangel months ago, and now he handled the dead-affinity assessments alongside me.
Still, watching the disappointment in someone’s eyes when they didn’t receive the affinity they hoped for never got easier.
“Yeah,” I said finally, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “Just hoping everyone gets what they want.”
“I’m sort of excited to see who we’ll be getting,” Gabe said, lowering himself into the chair across from us.
Both he and Steele had thrown themselves into rebuilding the Angelic Army, reshaping it with new requirements and expectations after it had grown lax under previous command.
It helped that so many from the Rebellion had joined their ranks, but this upcoming generation of recruits was different—curious, excited, unafraid.
They’d barely been pre-teens during the war, they’d grown up hearing stories of what had happened while hiding in the mountains, never having known the war itself.
“I already know at least two who’ll be joining us at the Taming center,” Ronan called out, scooping Xavier into his arms and spinning him around. “One of them’s a natural—he actually got that damn dragon to walk straight into the yard when he was volunteering one day.”
I lifted a brow. That was impressive. Ronan ran the Beast Tamer center now, helping guide the new generation of Tamers who no longer saw creatures as possessions but partners. Niz often joined him there, teaching what real trust between species could look like.
“Well, I’m off tomorrow,” Bastian said easily, with a cheeky smile. “The boys and I are going to visit Grandma Astor. She mentioned something about an obstacle course.”
Gabe groaned. “Of course she did. She’s got a new military course in their backyard—she probably wants to show it off to the boys.”
I couldn’t help smirking. I actually loved that. Gabe’s parents would never push our sons into training, but his mother’s love for strategy and discipline was infectious. The idea of her proudly showing off the course to two five-year-olds was almost too perfect.
“Wait—why are you off?” Niz asked, frowning as he approached the table. “It’s a Monday! I swear you make your own hours.”
“They suggest hours for me,” Bastian said, flashing a grin, “and I just suggest differently.”
To be fair, he’d earned that freedom. After the war, Bastian had used our newfound political pull in Alfemir to target and remove those in the prison system who’d specialized in torture. No one asked where they went, and no one at the prison demanded justice for them. They were simply—gone.
Since then, he’d worked there as a therapist. It had sounded strange at first—Bastian, of all people, in those halls again—but somehow, it felt right.
He counseled those who’d been experimented on, helping them understand that what was done to them hadn’t been right, no matter who they were, or what they’d done before.
Most of the inmates were there for a reason and would stay, but even they deserved the chance to heal. And it gave Bastian the opportunity to make sure no one else had been trapped there as he once was—imprisoned not for their crimes, but for the power they carried.
“And my patients love me,” Bastian said, entirely unbothered. “Do you know how many people think it’s amazing to sit on a lounge chair made of balloons? A lot, Niz. A lot.”
I smirked at that, wondering if he’d actually made his chair out of balloons. I supposed it would diffuse anxiety or tension, but it had to be more than a little uncomfortable. Right?
“I’m hungry!” Sylo called out before Ronan jogged toward the house.
I smiled faintly. Even in peace, none of us seemed to know how to sit still for long.
“Second breakfast!” Xavier shouted, clearly in agreement.
“Come on, both of you, inside,” Steele called, his voice firm but warm. “Or else—”
Whatever ‘threat’ he’d meant to finish vanished as the twins shrieked with laughter and bolted for the door, tripping over each other in their hurry to escape him. Steele gave chase, as he scooped Sylo up mid-stride.
All of my mates were incredible fathers, different in their ways, but perfectly balanced.
Ronan was the steady one, teaching the boys structure and how to keep their footing no matter the situation.
Gabe had patience in endless supply; he taught them gentleness, even when they didn’t think they needed it.
Steele filled the house with noise and competition, turning everything into a game that somehow always ended in laughter.
Niz taught curiosity—how to question, explore, and see the world as something to discover instead of fear.
And Bastian… Bastian reminded them that compassion and power weren’t opposites. That you could protect with all the force in the world and still be lighthearted, even when you were the source of half the chaos yourself.
As we made our way inside and I started toward the stairs to get ready for the day, I noticed the twins already perched at the island, eyes wide and expectant as Ronan lit the griddle.
The scent of batter and sugar filled the kitchen, warm and sweet, and for a moment, I paused at the bottom of the stairs, just watching our family—completely at peace and at home.
Niz’s voice carried from the front doorway, a folded letter in his hand. “Commander Soliel sent word that he and Mithrie plan to visit soon—to host a proper wedding ceremony here in Alfemir. I still can’t believe that bastard found a mate. A true wyvern–angel pairing.”
More surprising was that it was Mithrie, the Elementalist specialist who’d become one of our greatest allies and closest friends. Apparently, they’d met during the war and had been inseparable ever since.
Niz looked toward me, a grin tugging at his mouth. “I must say, I think that’s the best pairing.”
“Of course, baby,” I said with a wink.
Steele leaned against the couch, arms crossed in thought. “If either the wyvern or Alfemir guards leave their posts for the celebration, we’ll need to adjust. The patrols who aren’t attending will have to cover the gap.”
“You could just not patrol for a day,” I suggested, deadpan.
Both Steele and Gabe turned to look at me like I’d just proposed setting the city on fire.
Ronan coughed into his coffee mug, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
My hands went up in mock surrender. “Of course, I am so sorry—how could I even suggest such a thing!”
Truthfully, while I knew how protective my mates were, I wasn’t all that worried about incoming threats. Even without speaking to the Creator again, I could still sense her presence—steady and watchful. I knew she was keeping an eye on things.
As the twins began eating, I headed upstairs to get ready, knowing everyone else was already set for the day and for the birthday party we were due at this afternoon. One of their friends from the academy was turning six, which meant cake, chaos, and a backyard full of extremely hyper kids.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft sweater. Then I sat at the vanity to finish my makeup. When I was nearly done, Gabe appeared in the doorway behind me, his reflection meeting mine in the mirror.
“Can you believe our babies’ birthdays are in a month?” I asked, smiling faintly. The party today already had my mind spinning with everything we’d need to do.
He looked up at me then, quiet wonder softening his eyes. “Barely. It feels like yesterday that they came into this world.”
The twins had been born nearly two years after the war.
My pregnancy, especially with carrying twins, hadn’t been gentle; every kick and flutter had been a reminder of how fragile life was while we rebuilt Alfemir.
When they finally arrived, I realized just how worth it it had been.
We hadn’t talked about more children yet; the thought lingered between us sometimes, unspoken, patient.
For now, this was enough. More than enough.
“Everyone’s going to spoil them. If we thought their fifth birthday was bad, I have a feeling their sixth is going to outdo it,” Gabe said as I stood, finished and ready for the day.
Wasn’t that the truth.
Family gatherings had become something truly special in the years following the war. Gabe’s parents hosted dinner almost every other weekend, Niz’s family visited from the mountains at least once a month—sometimes more—and even Noah, and Amelia while visiting, stopped by for dinner during the week.
The twins were never short on arms to catch them, or hearts that loved them.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I gathered their coats and the wrapped gift from the counter.
I watched as Xavier tried to help tie the ribbons on the hostess basket I’d prepared—a bottle of sweet wine and fresh fruit—but ended up knotting them around his own fingers.
Sylo leaned in to help, the two of them whispering to each other until they managed to untangle and tie it correctly.
It was hard not to step in during moments like that, when their little faces tightened with frustration, but the confidence they wore once they figured it out on their own made my heart so full.
When we finally made it out the door, Ronan, Steele, and Niz crouched beside the boys, giving a reminder of instructions on how to take off. I knew we’d probably end up carrying them like usual, but I appreciated that they were trying.
“What’s the sudden motivation from them?” I asked Gabe as Bastian closed the door behind us. “They don’t usually take it so seriously.”
“Apparently, someone in their class learned to fly this week.”
Ah. So naturally now it was a competition.
“Well, they’ll get it—” I started to say eventually, but the word caught in my throat as the twins followed Steele’s instructions and lifted off the ground. Their tiny feathers caught the sunlight, wings moving in quick, excited flaps.
“We did it!” Xavier squealed, his voice pure joy.
“I knew we could!” Sylo added, dipping low before Niz’s hands shot out, ready to catch him.
Bastian’s hand tightened at my waist as Gabe brushed away a tear from my cheek that I hadn’t realized had fallen.
“They’re flying,” I whispered in shock and joy.
My sweet boys. An ache bloomed in my chest at the sadness in watching them grow up before our very eyes, but also with gratitude for the honor of being able to do exactly that.
Long ago we couldn’t even plan one day without thoughts of a war or prophecy, yet here we were now, days full of mundane joy.
This was what we fought for. This is what every wyvern, angel, and fallen had put their lives on the line for—so that future generations wouldn’t know even an ounce of the pain and suffering of the past.
“They are, and if we don’t join them, we’re going to get left behind!” Niz called out, laughter threading through his voice as he prepared to shift.
I sprang into the air, wings catching the light as I looked toward my sons and my mates surrounding them. I was no longer looking to the stars for answers. It no longer held our fate. It simply held our wings, our laughter, and the promise of days to come.
The world, now filled with hope, was moving forward as it was always meant to.
We carried the scars and we remembered the losses, but in the laughter of our sons, we found the proof that we won.