Page 63 of Roaring Spell

“I told you I would.”

“Most people don’t keep promises like that.”

“I’m not most people.” He moves toward me, and in the moonlight, his expression is soft. Unguarded. “How was girls’ night?”

“Emotional. Grandmother Peach appeared. Cryptic advice was given.”

“That tracks.” His lips twitch. “She cornered me again yesterday. Said I was ‘making progress but still glacially slow.’”

“Did you take her advice?”

“I’m trying.” He’s close now. Close enough to touch. “Sakura, about the studio⁠—”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I know. That’s not—” He takes a breath. “I want to help rebuild. Not just the Network. Me. Personally.”

“Why?”

“Because it matters to you. And you—” He stops. Starts again. “You matter to me.”

The words hang between us. Simple. Honest. Terrifying in their directness.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay?”

“Okay, you can help.” I smile up at him. “But I’m warning you—my organizational system is very specific.”

“More specific than my color-coded cabinets?”

“Much more specific.” I step past him toward the studio door. “We can argue about crystal placement tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a threat.” I laugh, and the sound surprises both of us. Light. Free. Not the laugh of someone who just had their life threatened.

The laugh of someone who’s finally found where she belongs.

“Goodnight.”

I go inside. Lock the door. Lean against it and breathe.

Through the window, I watch him walk away—massive and solid and exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

I fall asleep to the sound of rain—soft and gentle and perfectly calm. No storms. No thunder. Just peace.

TWELVE

TORIN

Iwalk home.

She’s laughing behind that locked door. I hear it through the glass even from the street—the surprised, free kind. Not performing it for anyone. Just having it.

I keep walking.

My cabin is dark by the time I get back. I don’t bother with lights. I sit in the chair by the fire and I think about the way she said we can argue about crystal placement tomorrow like tomorrow was already a given. Like of course, I’d be there. Like the question of whether I’d show up had stopped being a question somewhere along the way without either of us noticing.