Page 226 of Moonlit Fate

“It’s hard to imagine life before this garden, before them.”

“Hard, but not impossible,” Aria said, leaning close to sniff a rose. “We’ve come a long way.”

“From the battlefield to here,” I said, glancing back at the house where our children slept. “From blood and steel to earth and bloom.”

“We’ve grown,” Aria agreed, her smile reaching her eyes.

I took her hand in mine, feeling the calluses of battles past and the softness of a life more peaceful.

We settled onto the old bench, the oak’s branches reaching above us like outstretched arms. Aria leaned in, her weight against me a familiar comfort.

“Do you ever think about where we’d be if—” She stopped short, the words hanging unfinished in the air.

“If the battle had gone differently?” I knew the thought that haunted her, the same one that used to keep me up at night. I shook my head. “I used to. In the beginning, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” I cupped her cheek in my palm. “Now,” I said, pausing, “now, I think only of this, of you, of them. Of the future we’re building.”

Aria’s smile caught the last light of day, soft and glowing. It hit me every time, like a punch to the gut, in the best way.

“I love you,” she said.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I love you.” The words felt heavy on my tongue, full of everything we had shared. “More every day, my queen.”

The light changed, stretching shadows across the garden. We watched the sun dip lower, painting everything with a warm gold.

“Tonight will be a good night,” I said.

She leaned into me, warm against my side. “Just a little longer here,” she murmured.

“Yeah, just us,” I agreed.

No grand speeches or ceremonies. Just the soft rustle of leaves and the fading day. This moment, this peace, it was ours, and no one else’s. Not yet.

The feast wasalive with the kind of life that you could feel in the marrow of your bones. I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. Aria’s laugh cut through the night, clear and contagious. Mia was right there with her, sharing in the joke, their heads thrown back in mirth.

I smiled. They were so happy. Some days, I still couldn’t believe it.

Ilaric darted past me, his form blurred as he chased the twins across the grassy clearing. Their giggles were like music, the sound of pure joy that echoed in the open space.

“Gotcha!” Ilaric shouted, swooping Caelan into his arms as Elara sprinted away, little legs pumping fast.

“Again, Uncle Ilaric! Again!” Caelan squealed, wriggling to be put down.

“All right, but this is the last time, little man.” He set Caelan down, and they were off again, a whirlwind of energy under the twilight sky.

I couldn’t help but grin. We’d come out on the other side, stronger than before. Around me, the pack mingled, laughter and voices weaving into a tapestry of celebration. Faces glowed in the bonfire light, every line and crease telling its own story.

“Atticus, come join us,” someone called from a table laden with food.

“Be right there,” I replied, lingering on the scene before me. This was more than just survival. This, right here, was triumph.

I stepped back, just a little, watching it all unfold. Aria’s laugh cut through the night, clear and bright. She was with Mia, hands moving as she spun some tale that had them both in stitches.

“Remember when you—” Aria broke off, laughing too hard to finish.

“Every time,” Mia managed between chuckles, shaking her head.

The kids ran circles around Ilaric. His face lit up like he’d captured the moon itself. He never tired, not with them. They adored him, and it showed.

“Uncle Ilaric, look how fast I am!” Elara shouted.

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