The sun rose slow and golden over the cove, gilding everything in warmth. For the first time in what felt like weeks, the sea was calm—not unnaturally, not ominously, just... calm.
Kael stirred beside Lyra beneath the woven net of their makeshift hammock. His arm draped across her waist, his breath steady against the curve of her neck. No nightmares. No curses. Just the rhythm of waves and the steady flutter of her heart.
Lyra smiled into the morning light. The past still lingered in the shadows, but today felt like a beginning. For her. For them.
She shifted gently, watching Kael's lashes flutter as he stirred awake. His skin was warm from sleep, and his fingers instinctively curled around her waist as if to anchor her there.
"Morning," he murmured against her collarbone.
She kissed the top of his head. "You slept like a rock."
"Can you blame me?" he said, cracking an eye open. "You wore me out."
A flush rose on her cheeks. "You didn't seem to mind."
"I didn't." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck. "And I still don't."
They lay like that for a while, letting the morning stretch long and slow. The waves lapped rhythmically in the distance, and seabirds called lazily overhead. It felt like time had stilled, like they'd found a sliver of eternity tucked away in the cove.
Eventually, Lyra slid out from under his arm and rose. "Come on, sleepy prince. We promised to help with the harvest nets today."
Kael groaned. "I'm a prince. I should be exempt from net duty."
"You're my prince," Lyra said, grinning. "And I don't do royalty."
He laughed and followed her out into the sunlight.
Down at the village, the mood was unusually bright. The villagers greeted them with smiles, handing Kael a basket and Lyra a coil of rope. Children ran barefoot through the sand, and elders sat in shaded corners telling stories of storms that never came.
Miri sat cross-legged by the water, stringing shells onto fine cord. She was humming a tune Kael didn't recognize—but it was cheerful, almost clumsy. She waved when she saw them.
Lyra approached her. "You're up early."
Miri nodded. "Thought I'd be useful."
Her smile was soft, eyes still a bit too large, but somehow less distant. Kael crouched beside her, studying the intricate knots she was tying between the shells.
"These are really nice," he said.
Miri shrugged. "Just keeping busy. It's better than wandering."
Kael exchanged a glance with Lyra. Whatever shift had happened in Miri, it seemed… natural. Healing, even. And Elli's return the previous night had felt like a balm—no secrets, no riddles, just quiet presence.
Maybe, finally, they were safe.
By midafternoon, the village square had turned into a celebration.
A group of fishermen returned with a bounty of glittering fish, and the elders declared it a good omen. Bonfires were lit early, and drums echoed faintly from the northern hill where the goats were kept.
Vaelen arrived just before sunset with fresh clams and a jug of sweet kelp wine. He joined them at the central fire, his usual reticence melted away by drink and the warmth of shared food.
Lyra watched Kael laugh with the villagers, dancing clumsily to the beat of the drums. He'd shed his shirt, golden skin flushed with heat and joy. She leaned back, her heart swelling with something too big to name.
Miri danced, too, her laughter bright and sharp like sea glass. Vaelen even cracked a smile when she pulled him into a spin.
Lyra caught Elli watching from the cliff above, hair braided with seaweed, expression unreadable—but calm. Peaceful, even.
That night, Lyra and Kael returned to the hammock beneath the moon.
Their kiss was slow, reverent. Fingers whispered over skin, tracing familiar paths. This time, there was no urgency—just need, heat, and the soft sound of waves in the distance.
Kael worshipped her with hands and mouth, every touch deliberate. Lyra melted beneath him, arching, gasping his name. She clung to him, nails digging into his back as he rocked into her, deep and slow.
They moved as one, breath tangled, hearts synced.
When it was over, they lay tangled in silence, the scent of salt and skin clinging to the air.
"I love you," Kael whispered.
Lyra smiled. "You better."
He kissed her shoulder. "Let's stay here forever."
She turned to face him, brushing his hair back. "Forever sounds perfect."
The days that followed were sun-soaked and laughter-filled.
Lyra helped the village children paint shells with berry dyes. Kael worked with the fishermen and even convinced a few elders to let him try sailing one of the old boats—though he was hilariously bad at it.
Elli spent her time tending the small tide pools that dotted the northern cliffs. Miri played more often than she brooded. Even Vaelen taught a group of teens how to craft harpoons from driftwood and bone.
Each night, Kael and Lyra returned to their hammock. Some nights, they made love beneath the stars. Other nights, they simply held each other, sharing stories of childhood and dreams for what came next.
For the first time, the future didn't feel like a threat.
It felt like a promise.
On the fifth morning of peace, Lyra awoke before the sun. She walked to the water's edge, feet sinking into wet sand, hair lifted by the breeze.
She sang—not a siren's song, but her own. A simple melody her mother once taught her, back when life was quieter.
She didn't hear Kael join her, but she felt him. His arms wrapped around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.
"I love your voice," he said softly.
"It's just a lullaby."
"It's you."
She smiled.
He pulled her close, resting his cheek against hers. "Marry me."
She turned in his arms, heart skipping. "What?"
"Marry me," he said again, earnest and unshaking. "Here. With the sea as our witness."
Lyra blinked. "You know I'm not like other girls."
"I know," he said, brushing her cheek. "That's why I love you."
She hesitated—but only for a moment. Then she nodded.
"Yes."
And the sea, for now, stayed quiet.