Chapter 222- Home Beneath the Lantern Sky
Lexy
The crowd erupted into cheers. The triplets clapped their hands, laughing as fireworks of magic burst in the sky—colors of flame, wind, and light intertwining. The 2 younger triplets cooed in CJ’s arms while I held the 3rd, their small auras flickering in wonder.
I leaned into CJ’s side as they watched, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. “We did it,” I whispered.
“We’re just getting started,” he murmured back.
The rest of the day unfolded in a blur of joy—children chasing bubbles of light, warriors sharing stories over food, alliance leaders dancing alongside tribe members. I found myself laughing more than I had in years. Every time I looked at my children—at their bright eyes, their free smiles—I felt something deeper than peace. I felt whole.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in streaks of gold and violet, I stood once more on the balcony overlooking the meadow. CJ joined me, slipping his hand into mines. Below, lanterns began to glow, carried by the people toward the river.
“For the ones we lost,” CJ said softly.
“And for the ones we saved,” I added.
We watched as hundreds of lights drifted down the water, the night alive with laughter and music. When I looked up, I swore I saw two suns rising—the fading day and the one that burned in my heart.
It was the day the sun rose twice—the day her world finally stood unafraid.
CJ
The night had settled soft and deep over the new lands, the air still humming with the echoes of laughter and music. From where I stood—just beyond the meadow, near the edge of the river, the glow of hundreds of floating lanterns shimmered like fallen stars. I exhaled slowly, feeling a peace I hadn’t known I’d been starving for.
The celebrations had ended only an hour ago, but traces of joy still lingered everywhere. Children’s laughter floated from nearby rooms, the smell of honey bread still carried faintly by the wind, and in the distance, the alliance guards sang around a campfire. The world—my world—finally sounded alive again.
I ran a hand through my hair and smiled faintly. I could still picture Lexy, radiant beneath the glow of the lanterns, her laughter carrying through the crowd like light itself. The way she’d stood surrounded by our children, pride and warmth spilling from her aura—it had nearly undone me. I’d faced armies without flinching, stood toe to toe with death and gods alike, but the sight of my mate smiling in peace had left me weak in the knees.
She deserved this. Every damn second of it.
I crouched beside the riverbank, picking up one of the smooth stones that lined the shore. The moonlight caught the faint silver streaks across my knuckles—scars from a life that felt both distant and carved into my bones. I turned the stone over in my palm, thinking of how different things had been just a year ago.
A year ago, I was drowning in battle plans, haunted by Adrian’s betrayal, the alliance almost fractured, and Lexy barely recovering from the storm that had nearly consumed her. Our children had been hidden then—names whispered, faces kept from sight. Fear had ruled even our quiet moments. And now… this.
I looked up again, watching as the lanterns drifted farther down the river. It was strange, this calm. The kind of quiet that didn’t ache or threaten. It simply existed.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” came Helio’s familiar voice behind me.
I smiled faintly, not turning right away. “You’d think after the feast, I’d pass out like one of the kids.”
Helio chuckled as he came to stand beside me, my posture relaxed but my eyes sharp as ever. “You’ve never been good at standing still. Even when the world gives you permission.”
I snorted softly. “Maybe I just don’t trust quiet.”
“Or maybe you finally don’t know what to do with peace,” Helio said, his tone thoughtful. Then, after a pause, he added, “You’ve built something remarkable here, son.”
I finally looked at him. “We did. Lexy did. I just tried to keep up.”
Helio smiled faintly, pride glinting in his eyes. “She leads with light. You keep the darkness from swallowing it. That balance is why this place will last.”
I nodded, my throat tightening. “Sometimes I still see the battles. The screams. The faces of the ones who didn’t make it. And then I look at our children and it’s like—” I paused, searching for words. “It’s like all that pain built the foundation for something worth bleeding for.”
Helio placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Then don’t carry it as a wound. Carry it as a reminder.”
I breathed deeply, the words sinking into me. I’d been carrying the weight of leadership, of survival for so long that even now, when the burden had lessened, it felt strange to let it go. But tonight, standing here, I could almost feel the heaviness peeling away.
We stood in silence for a while, watching the river. The lanterns flickered, reflections rippling across the surface like ghostly stars. After a few minutes, Helio clapped my shoulder once more and headed back toward the hall, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I stayed by the river’s edge, lost in the rhythm of the water, until I felt a familiar pulse—Lexy’s essence brushing against me through our bond. Warm. Inviting. Calling me home. I smiled to myself and rose, brushing off my pants before making my way back to the grand hall.
The torches along the path flickered low, casting golden halos over the stone walkway. The air was cool now, tinged with the scent of night-blooming flowers. I could feel her before I saw her—her energy like the hum of the earth itself, steady and alive.
Lexy sat near the open balcony of our chambers; a shawl draped over her shoulders. Her long braid had loosened, bright red hair tumbling around her face in gentle waves. She turned when she sensed me, her lips curving into a soft smile. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I could say the same about you,” I replied, crossing the room.
She laughed quietly, the sound low and familiar. “I wanted to watch the lanterns until the last one drifted out of sight. It feels… different this year.”
I knelt beside her chair, resting my arm across her knees. “It is different. They’re not floating for grief anymore. They’re floating for life.”
Lexy reached out, brushing her fingers through my hair. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? I saw Elio trying to chase one earlier before Tarria caught him. I swear, he’s you all over again—never afraid to jump headfirst into the impossible.”
I chuckled, resting my head lightly against her thigh. “And Jr. nearly created his own fire show. I had to stop one of the guards from fainting.”
“He’s definitely mine,” Lexy said with a grin.
We shared a quiet laugh, and for a moment, the world beyond the balcony disappeared. There was only this—the warmth between us, the hum of our bond, the faint echo of our children’s heartbeats asleep just a room away.
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