Page 84 of The Monster's Daughter
I lift my helm to face them.
The firelight dances across faces. I inhale smoke and sweat and fear. I begin:
“I learned war first,” I say, my voice rough. “I learned to kill in mud and flame. I believed survival was strength, dominance,fear. But I was wrong. Death taught me better. Because today, I stand before you not to conquer, but to remember. To renew.”
Bella’s beside me, eyes shining. Natalie watches, perched on the edge by the firelight, small but fierce.
“We survived extinction not because we were the strongest. Not because we crushed every enemy at our heels. But because we chose to protect what we could not destroy: our children, our love, our stories.”
The holofeed drones hum. Someone must have activated live transmit. I see faces on screens: distant planets, weary eyes, impossible hope.
Bella steps forward. Her voice rings clear, stronger than the echo in the hall. “Look at them. Our scars. Our mistakes. Our daughter. If love is weakness, then we are the weakest, but also strongest. Because love doesn’t bend at fear—it carries on.”
The crowd responds. I hear gasps, murmurs, then applause. A ripple of support, marching outward. Their shouts echo through the domes.
Afterward, we move from the plaza into the restored gardens. Under arches of green vines and rebuilding structures, soft fountains flow with healing water. Natalie runs ahead, laughing. Bella calls after her: “Be careful, little one.”
I trail behind. Bella stops and taps my armor. “It fits,” she says quietly.
I laugh—a dry blade across stone. “Tight as a cage.”
She touches my cheek. “Not a cage. A promise.”
Later, in private light, she corners me near a fountain’s edge, water shimmering. “We rebuilt your home,” she says. “But we never built ours.”
My heart aches. My voice is low. “Then let’s build it now.”
She smiles through tears. She places her hand in mine again. “Here. With me. With her. Wherever we are—that’s our root.”
I look at her. At Natalie chasing fireflies. At the rising moon, the ruins, the fresh green shoots between stones. And for the first time, a word more than belonging, more than survival, fights its way into my throat:
Family.
CHAPTER 47
BELLA
Iwake before sunrise. The air is cool—smoke-dusted wind drifting through broken window frames, the scent of wild jasmine drifting in. I lie still for a moment, letting my chest heave, feeling the weight of everything tangled in my limbs: grief, hope, memory, love. Then I rise, stepping into the gown Sorena wove. It shimmers like stardust, threads silver and pale blue interwoven to catch even the faintest light. Each stitch feels sacred, a promise.
I peer into the mirror. The train fans out behind me. The bodice fits tight, hugging old scars. My reflection is half warrior, half bride. I lift one hand and touch a seam. My breath hits harsh in my throat. “I look like a cupcake with a gun,” I mutter.
Gake stifles a laugh behind me. “Cupcake is an understatement. You look radiant.” His tone teases, warm.
“I’ll take radiant,” I say, letting a smile tremble. My heart puffs in my chest.
Through the door, Natalie appears: pink gown, floral crown sliding sideways off her horns, scales glinting in early light. She skitters forward on clawed feet. “Can I call you Momma Dragon now?” she demands, a cheeky glint in her eyes.
I crouch. “You can call me whatever you want, kid.” I brush her cheek, scale soft against my finger. She grins, then plants a kiss on my nose.
Ghale and Sorena appear behind her, adjusting her crown and smoothing stray curls of her hair. Sorena’s eyes shimmer. “She’s perfect.”
I pause a moment, tugging at the hem of the gown. “I’m terrified.”
“You don’t have to be brave today,” Sorena whispers, lowering her voice. “Just you.”
I nod and step out.
The ceremony site is a moonlit clearing behind the restored ancestral garden in Xeros. Lanterns drift on wires, shadows dancing across old stone. A small circle of loved ones: elders, survivors, friends who crossed galaxies for this day. The soft rustle of silks, the hum of tech drones camouflaged overhead, and the scent of jasmine and firewood heavy in the night. It is sacred, tenuous.
