The creature chirps, laying its head on the ice next to my thigh with a rattling sigh. It’s been two years since I learned to control the kleptak, and the same amount of time that Mor has been in the wild. But somewhere along the way, the creature developed a fondness for me, and now whenever I come out to the welwig forest to sit and think, she pays me a visit. We have a strange kind of bond, one I don’t believe anyone has experienced with the mysterious beast.

How different my life has become. Things I never could have dreamed of are my reality, and it doesn’t quite feel real.

I gaze out past the curtain of drooping crystalline leaves, staring into the shadowed forest just beyond. So much has changed in the past few years, and I’ve grown so much. I’ve surpassed my wildest expectations of what my power can do, and I’ve yet to find the limit of my magic. There’s always more to discover, more to learn.

Malice says I could rule The Far Place if I ever wanted to. But for now, I’m happy with my quiet life. I’m happy spending every day carefree and in the arms of my mates, and I don’t know if I’ll ever feel the urge to rebuild the palace and invite struggle back into our lives. Everything is as it should be for now, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

The kleptak lets out an irritated chitter, drawing my attention back toward the creature at my side. Her head is turned to her hind legs, muscles taut and snarling at the little black cat using its back leg as a scratching post.

“Nya!” I yank the little cat into my lap, nestling her into the space next to Bo as I give Mor an apologetic smile. The kleptak continues chirruping, rising to a stand and shifting away despite my moving Nya away. Comet huffs, stamping the ground and lowering his head, clearly startled at the creature’s sudden movement.

Having had enough socialization for one afternoon—or perhaps not wanting to share my attention with six other clingy animals—Mor turns her head to face me in a somber goodbye, and she stalks off into the darkened forest beyond.

As soon as the creature is out of view, Honey nuzzles her snout against my shoulder with a satisfied chuff. Echo places his head on my knee, his emerald eyes narrowed and watching the shadows warily, clearly worried the kleptak will make a reappearance. I giggle, running my palm along Syn’s glossy back in a soothing motion.

“It’s okay,” I whisper to the familiars. “She’s gone for now.”

We sit in silence for several minutes, listening to the gentle creak of the branches overhead and reveling in the quiet stillness hanging heavy in the air.