SERAPHINA’S POV
Seabreeze did not let go easily.
I’d known my ti here was finite, but that didn’t soften the ache when the end finally arrived.
The final days blurred together, a bittersweet rush of tender monts.
Corin was relentless but kind, pushing through variations of psychic exercises until my head buzzed and my limbs felt like jelly attachnts.
By then, he’d stopped hovering, stopped correcting every breath and every misstep. He only intervened when I genuinely lost my footing—psychically or otherwise.
“The rest,” he told one morning as we stood barefoot at the edge of the water, foam licking at our ankles, “you’ll have to do on your own.”
I glanced at him sideways. “That’s it? No ominous warnings? No cryptic prophecy?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’ll hear enough of those without my help.”
He handed a small, smooth stone, pale and veined faintly with blue. Warm. Steady.
“In the midst of the storms of the Ethereal Sea, be a rock. Sturdy. Unmoved.”
I closed my fingers around it, smiling softly. “Thank you, but I prefer to be a tree.”
He arched a brow. “Want to uproot a palm tree and fold it into your suitcase?”
I laughed, the roar of the waves drowning out the sound.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “For...everything.”
His gaze lingered on a mont longer than usual—careful, searching—but he only nodded. “You did the work, Sera. I just pointed at the tide.”
“And made sure I didn’t drown.”
He smiled. “You call if you ever need anything. And I an anything.”
I cocked my head. “Even if I like, forget my keys?”
He rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. “I can’t wait to go back to training in peace and quiet."
“Oh, please,” I nudged his shoulder. “You’ll miss the company.”
He looked down at , and his smile lted into sothing soft and tender. “You know what? Yes. Yes, I will.”
***
The children were another matter entirely.
They followed everywhere those last days, like I might evaporate if they let out of their sight.
Dora insisted on packing with , her tiny hands placing each item in my bag with exaggerated, solemn care.
Reef lingered in doorways, feigning indifference but watching every move I made.
Neri cried twice: once loudly, once in silence, both tis trying to be brave.
“I wish you could stay for Christmas,” Kai said hopefully, arms folded like he could will it into existence.
Selene watched from the doorway, expression soft but resolute. “Sera’s son is waiting at ho to spend Christmas with her. You wouldn’t want to be separated from your family on Christmas, would you?”
Dora sniffed. “You’ll...co back, right?”
I crouched in front of her, brushing my thumbs beneath her eyes. “I’ll visit so often you’ll be sick of .”
“That’s not possible,” Reef declared.
I smiled at him. “Wanna bet?”
***
I left Seabreeze two days before Christmas, laden with gifts—shell bracelets, woven scarves, hand-carved trinkets, books on sea myths—for my loved ones back ho.
The transport Selene arranged was discreet and efficient, a sleek black vehicle waiting at the edge of the beach.
The children clung to until the last possible mont, arms wrapped around my waist and shoulders, as if their grip alone could anchor there.
“I’ll co visit,” I promised for what felt like the hundredth ti, pressing a kiss into Dora’s hair, then Neri’s. “And you’re all welco to visit too.”
“You an it?” Reef asked, his grip tightening.
“I an it,” I said softly. “You and Daniel will get along like a house on fire.”
His eyes lit up, and mine widened. “That is in no way an invitation to set any houses on fire.”
That drew a watery laugh out of him.
Corin hung back, giving the kids space, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets. When they finally—reluctantly—peeled away, he stepped forward and pulled into a brief, careful hug.
“Call,” he murmured.
“I will,” I promised.
Afterward, Maris pulled in a firm, full-bodied hug. “Good luck with everything, Sera.” She pulled back and winked. “You and your friend.”
I chuckled, squeezing her arms. “Thank you”
Over her shoulder, Brett caught my eye from where he stood a few steps away, hands folded loosely in front of him.
He didn’t intrude, just t my gaze and offered a small, steady smile and a knowing nod.
I returned it, raising my hand slightly in a mock toast.
Last was Selene.
She drew into her arms with the kind of embrace that felt less like a farewell and more like a benediction.
“I still wish you would make your ho here,” she said softly. “But I hope...whatever you do next, you found what you were looking for.”
I leaned back just enough to et her eyes, emotion pressing thick behind my ribs.
“More than I could have ever hoped,” I said honestly.
Her smile trembled. She brushed her thumb over my cheek once, then stepped back.
And after one last goodbye wave, I entered the car and closed the door.
As it pulled away, Seabreeze shrank in the rearview mirror, its vast skies and salt-laced air pressing against my chest like a held breath.
I’d set out in search of who I really was, and stumbled upon truths I couldn’t have conjured in my wildest dreams.
But now, it was ti to go ho.
***
In hindsight, maybe the whole independent thing wasn’t always a good idea.
Lucian had offered his private jet for my return, but no, I decided to finish the trip the way I started: on my own.
Boy, did I fucking regret it.
As if the Christmas rush wasn’t bad enough, weather delays stacked one on top of the other until the airport beca a purgatory of blinking lights and strained voices.
By the ti my plane finally took off on Christmas day, after a cumulative whopping thirty-six-hour delay, the sun was already sinking and spilling gold into the slate-colored clouds.
My foot bounced nonstop throughout the flight. I checked the ti again and again, my heart racing as the minutes slipped away.
I had promised Daniel I’d be ho before Christmas, but now it felt like only a miracle could get to him before midnight.
The wheels slamd onto the runway, rattling my teeth. By the ti we taxied to the gate, my promise felt like sand slipping through my fingers.
One more agonizing hour at baggage claim, and I was ready to drop to my knees and shake my fist at the navy sky.
When I finally got my bags, I ran.
Past signs, past fellow weary travelers, past the ache in my lungs and the burn in my legs. I burst through the arrival doors—and stopped so abruptly soone nearly crashed into .
Daniel stood just beyond the barrier.
For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe.
He was taller, his fra all sharp lines and subtle strength. His hair was longer, curling at the nape of his neck. But his eyes—those dark, earnest eyes—were exactly the sa.
“Mom!”
The world narrowed to that single word.
He barreled into with all the force of a boy who’d spent weeks holding himself together.
I let my bags fall and dropped to my knees as his arms locked around my neck, my face buried in his shoulder.
I breathed him in: soap, cotton, and the faintest hint of cedar.
“I missed you so much,” he choked, voice cracking straight through .
“I’m here,” I whispered into his hair. “I’m here, baby. I’m so sorry I’m late.”
His grip tightened, as if afraid I might disappear. My hands trembled as I clung to him, fingers digging into his jacket, anchoring myself to the solid, miraculous reality of him.
When I finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, eyes shining. “You promised,” he said fiercely.
“I know,” I said. “I tried.”
“And you’re here.” He grinned. “Just like Dad said you’d be.”
Only then did I look up, and a lump ford in my throat.
Kieran stood a few steps back, hands loose at his sides, posture relaxed in a way I didn’t rember him ever managing before.
He looked...different. I wasn’t quite sure how to qualify it except that he looked more like the boy I t in the trees all those years ago.
The sharp edges of his presence remained, but they no longer felt...weaponized.
“You didn’t have to co,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.
Christmas in Nightfang was a big deal. The fact that the Alpha and heir weren’t present was an even bigger deal.
“I wanted to,” Kieran replied, his voice warm and steady. “And Daniel needed it.”
The bond stirred, a familiar flicker, but it didn’t seize like it once had. It rested there, warm and present, no longer demanding or forcing anything. Just...acknowledging.
“It’s good to see you, Sera,” he added, eyes filled with a tenderness that made my breath hitch.
I rose, Daniel’s hand in mine. And maybe it was the exhilaration of being reunited with my baby or the joy of Christmas, but the smile I gave Kieran was genuine, and my words were sincere.
“It’s good to see you, too.”
***
The drive was subdued but not strained. Daniel filled the space easily, chattering about training mishaps and inside jokes, his hand firmly wrapped around mine the entire ti.
As the car pulled into my driveway, sothing in my chest tightened.
The house seed smaller than I rembered—quieter, as if it had been holding its breath in my absence.
The porch light was off, the windows dark.
I pictured the inside: cold corners, untouched furniture, faint traces of footsteps that had not crossed the floors in weeks. A place waiting, maybe even resenting for leaving.
“I hope it’s not too—” I began, the word ’dusty’ hovering on the tip of my tongue as I opened the door and the lights exploded on.
“SURPRISE!”
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