"We'll travel. Track ley line convergences around the world. You'll photograph, I'll study the connections. Make it our life's work."
"I like that." Her voice is soft, content. "What else?"
"Children. Someday. If you want them."
"I want them." No hesitation. "I want to give them the stability I never had. The family. The home."
"They'll have all of that." Pressing a kiss to her temple. "Calder thinks our bond is strong enough to create new life. After what you did in the shadow realm, I believe it."
She's quiet for a moment. "I never thought I'd have this. Permanence. Family. Home."
"You have it now." My arms tighten around her. "You're stuck with me. And my entire chaotic family."
Her laugh is soft and genuine. "Good. I always wanted siblings who wouldn't leave."
The next hour fills with details that feel wonderfully mundane after dimensional battles and shadow guardians. She wants the darkroom on the north side of the cabin where the light is most consistent. I argue for expanding the bedroom first—we'll need the space when her photography equipment starts taking over. She laughs and compromises: expand both, build it all at once.
"Kitchen?" she asks.
"Needs to be bigger. Right now it's barely functional for one person." Tracing patterns on her arm absently. "We'll cook together. Figure out what we're good at. I can teach you how to clean fish properly."
"Romantic."
"Hey, fish cleaning is very romantic in the right context."
She snorts but she's smiling.
We debate where to put bookshelves—she wants them everywhere, I want at least some wall space for other things. Whether to add a deck off the back for watching sunsets. What kind of wood to use for the expansion. It's perfect. Normal. Ours.
Making it real. Making it home.
Exhaustion finally claims her. The ley lines have done their work, feeding energy back into her depleted reserves. But she's still tired, her body demanding rest after what she survived. Her consciousness drifts through our connection, peaceful and content.
"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"Always."
She falls asleep in my arms, warmth pulsing steady between us. Whole. Unbroken. Exactly as it should be.
Holding her, watching the light fade outside, thinking about the future we're going to build. The research. The travel. The children we might have. The life we'll share in this place she's claimed as home.
The shadow realm is sealed. The town is safe. And my mate is alive and recovering in my arms.
For the first time in six months, I let myself fully relax. Fully believe that everything is going to be okay.
CHAPTER 15
MAREN
Three Months Later...
The orca pod circles our research boat, close enough that I can see the white eye patches, the scars marking the oldest female. Jonah leans over the rail like he's greeting old friends, and maybe he is. He's been tracking these whales for a month now, and they recognize him.
My camera is already raised, lens tracking the massive dorsal fins cutting through the morning swell. The research vessel rocks beneath my feet—a rhythm I've learned to anticipate and move with. Through the viewfinder, I catch the moment Jonah extends his hand toward the water.
The pod moves closer. Not threatening, just curious about the shifter who's been documenting the invisible highways they follow through the ocean.
