Chapter 223- Where the Light Finally Stayed
CJ
I looked up at her, eyes tracing her face—the faint fiery glow still alive in her eyes, the softness of her smile. “You know,” I said quietly, “I never imagined we’d get here. Not really. I used to plan for peace like it was another battle to win. But standing out there tonight, watching them… it finally hit me. We made it, Lex. We made it.”
Lexy’s eyes softened. “You always believed we could.”
“Maybe,” I said, my voice roughening. “But I never believed it would feel like this.”
She slid down from the chair to sit beside me on the floor, our backs against the wall. The open balcony let in the soft night wind, carrying the fading sounds of celebration. “You’ve done more than protect this world, CJ,” she said gently. “You helped rebuild it. You gave it a future.”
I looked at her, emotion tightening my chest. “We gave it a future. You taught me how.”
We sat together in silence, watching as the final lantern drifted past the horizon. In that quiet, I reached for her hand, our fingers entwining easily. The bond between us thrummed with a deep, grounding warmth—a mix of love, exhaustion, and the unspoken acknowledgment that we’d survived the impossible.
After a long moment, Lexy leaned her head against my shoulder. “Do you ever wonder what they’ll become?” she whispered. “The children?”
“All the time,” I said honestly. “I see Elio trying to lead the others already. Alexia’s got your calm, but she hides fire beneath it. And Jr.…” I chuckled softly. “Jr. will probably command storms before he’s ten.”
“And the younger ones?” Lexy asked, her voice tender.
“Lyric will bring balance,” CJ said after a pause. “Xazuel will be the shield we never had. And Soren…” I hesitated, my voice lowering. “Soren will be something new. Something the world hasn’t seen before.”
Lexy smiled faintly, her eyes half-closed. “You sound so certain.”
“I don’t need certainty,” I murmured. “I just have faith.”
The words lingered between us, soft and sure. Outside, the stars shimmered against the dark sky, reflected in the still water below. I turned my gaze toward the horizon, where the first hints of dawn began to pale the edges of the night.
I realized then that I wasn’t waiting for the next battle anymore. I wasn’t bracing for loss or fearing the unknown. For the first time in my life, I was simply content to exist in the moment—to breathe, to love, to watch my family thrive.
Lexy’s breathing slowed beside me, her head resting against my chest, her hand still tangled in mine. I pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered against her skin, “You gave me peace, my Queen. I didn’t even know how much I needed it.”
Her lips curved into a sleepy smile. “You gave me a home, my King.”
The sky outside lightened, the first rays of dawn spreading warmth over the new lands we had built together. I watched as the sun rose, painting everything in gold. And as I held Lexy close, surrounded by the echoes of laughter, the scent of the earth, and the quiet pulse of life in every corner of their world, one truth settled deep in my chest—
For the first time, I wasn’t standing guard.
I was standing at home.
Lexy
I stood on the hill overlooking the village this beautiful morning, my eyes tracing the distant laughter drifting from the training fields. It was still early, but my first triplets were already chasing one another, their little bursts of magic flashing like sparks of color across the green.
I smiled. Elio had his father’s fire, both in power and spirit. Alexia’s light shimmered steadily and calmly, the same grace that used to steady me in battle. And Jr.—his fierce, free-spirited storm—could already summon a fire strong enough to knock Elio off his feet.
A soft laugh escaped my lips. They’d grown so much in four short years.
Below the hill, I could see Tarria guiding a group of young warriors through drills, her movements sharp and sure. It filled my heart with quiet pride to see how Tarria had bloomed—no longer haunted by what she was but embracing it fully. Around me, the alliance banners swayed in the morning wind, bright symbols of unity that once seemed impossible.
Everything we had dreamed, fought, and bled for—here it was. Real. Alive.
Behind me, the faint cries of the younger triplets stirred through the open balcony doors. Lyric’s soft wail, Xazuel’s quiet cooing, and Soren’s low hum of energy that always seemed to vibrate through the air. I turned toward the sound; my chest was swelling. CJ would be with them soon; he’d taken the early patrol to clear his head, but I could already feel his presence through our bond—steady, warm, and always near.
I walked back inside, pausing to watch the three little ones lying in their cribs by the window. Lyric’s tiny fingers reached toward the sunbeam that filtered through the curtain, catching the light as though she could hold it. Xazuel slept deeply beside her, his little hand curled around his sister’s ankle, grounding her even in dreams. And Soren—sweet Soren—watched them both with eyes too wise for his age, his aura dark and calm but never cold.
I brushed a hand over each of their heads. “My miracles,” I whispered softly.
When I looked up again, my gaze caught the faint reflection in the glass. The woman staring back at my no longer looked like the warrior queen who had fought through loss and fire. My hair still carried the fiery red curls symbolizing my powers, but my face had softened—still strong, but at peace. The lines at the corners of my eyes were not from worry anymore, but from laughter.
I thought of all the nights I’d spent standing guard, waiting for the next attack, the next betrayal. Of the friends we’d lost, and the ones who’d found their way back home. Of CJ’s hand gripping mines through every storm. Of the first time I’d held my children and realized that no crown, no power, no victory could ever mean as much as this.
The tears came quietly, not from sadness but from gratitude so deep it ached.
Outside, the sound of footsteps made me turn. CJ stood in the doorway, his smile easy and warm. “You’re up early,” he said softly.
“So are you,” I replied, returning his smile.
He crossed the room, wrapping an arm around my waist as we both looked down at our children. For a long while, we didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Our bond hummed between us—a quiet symphony of love, trust, and shared history.
“They’re growing fast,” CJ murmured.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Too fast. But they’re safe. They’re happy. And that’s all I ever wanted.”
CJ pressed a kiss to my temple. “You made it happen, Lex.”
“No,” I whispered, looking out toward the sun now cresting the horizon. “We did.”
The light flooded the room, touching everything it reached—our children, our home, the land that had risen from ashes. I closed my eyes and breathed it in. For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, there was nothing left to fight. No shadow waiting to rise again.
Just life.
Just love.
And the peace we had built together.
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