Dagny’s gasp fills the air as we turn our attention to the horizon, finding the skies bursting with vibrant color. The light shifts and dances across the skyline, staining the atmosphere with brilliant hues of merging, shimmering pigment.

On cue, the penkins littering the coastline below tilt their heads back, opening their mouths wide as their haunting sonnet fills the air, rolling over my skin and raising the hair at the back of my neck.

As they sing, we place our hands to our hearts, honoring Abaddon, his loss, and his sacrifice that led to our triumph over Slaine and his army. Without him, there would be nothing. Without his death, we would not have been given the gift of life.

When the lights fade and the penkins bellow their last dreary note, Dagny turns to me, her eyes welling with unshed tears. Before they can fall, the six of us surround her, wanting to ease her pain, needing to stop the throbbing ache traveling down the bond. We hold her, soothing her with gentle caresses and loving whispers—and eventually, that beautiful light returns to her eyes. The one that’s filled with hope and love, despite all she’s lost.

She looks at me, and I forget how to breathe. But the next words out of her mouth are all I need to survive. “I’m ready to go home.”

I cup her cheek, my head singing, slamming wildly against its cage. “Okay,” I whisper. “Let’s go home.”

As the seven of us launch into the skies, my mate turns to give me a tender smile, one that fills my chest with a tingling warmth and breathes life into my cold, malicious heart—and I’m struck with the most wonderful realization.

For the first time in my life, I have someone to love. Someone who has seen the darkest parts of my soul, the fatal flaws of my being, and has decided to love me back. There is no sweeter taste, no finer sensation, no awareness or purpose or gift that could compare to the knowledge that this extraordinary being—this wonderful, beautiful woman—is mine.

For life. For always. Forever.

Ours. 

The end.

Dagny

2 years later…

“Don’t be so greedy, Mor.”

I retract my hand from the kleptak and place it back on Bo’s head, causing a cacophony of low-toned chitters to break the air as Mor makes her dissatisfaction known. She tries nudging my palm off Bo and onto her head again, but I shove her away lightly, continuing to pet her with my other—free—hand. “You can’t hog all my attention, Mor.”