Spring came like a sigh of relief.

  The snow had long since melted, and in its place bloomed wildflowers of every color—vibrant yellows, blushing violets, and soft blues that crept across the fields like spilled paint. The earth was alive again, warm and damp beneath bare feet, breathing new life into the land that had once mourned.

  The small cottage, once a refuge carved from sorrow, now stood proudly against the backdrop of tall grass and whispering trees. Its roof was patched with care, its garden freshly turned, and laughter echoed off its walls more often than not.

  Inside, and especially outside, life had returned.

  Elara, who had once walked through grief like a ghost, now danced barefoot in the morning dew. Her laughter rang out as she chased butterflies and spun in wide, clumsy circles—her smile wide and wild, her silver eyes shining with something Darius had feared lost: joy.

  Rowan and Malrik, barely past infancy, were constant companions, babbling nonsense and crawling side by side, their chubby hands reaching for one another as if they were halves of the same spirit.

  Even Darius, whose world had once ended with a whispered goodbye, now moved differently—not softer, but steadier. There was still steel in his step, still weight in his silence, but something in him had eased.

  He had help.

  He had family.

  And one morning, as the sun rose over a land dressed in green, they sat together outside the cottage—Darius sharpening his hunting blade, Lily threading herbs, and Alina sewing new sleeves for Elara’s tunic.

  Alina looked up, her fingers pausing.

  “I want to plant an Earthheart Seed on Seraphina’s grave,” she said gently.

  Her words floated into the morning stillness like a prayer.

  Darius stilled.

  The sound of steel against whetstone stopped mid-stroke. His grip tightened on the knife, and for a breath, no one spoke.

  Then—

  A slow exhale.

  He followed her gaze to the edge of the property, to the simple grave nestled beneath the great oak tree, where a small stone and a circle of white flowers marked Seraphina’s final resting place.

  The idea was... beautiful. Painful. Sacred.

  He knew the truth of Earthheart Trees—how their roots would entwine with the body buried below, drawing forth the final echoes of the soul. In time, the tree would bloom with silver leaves, luminous and eternal. A living monument. A guardian of memory.

  “It’s expensive,” Darius murmured, voice rough.

  “I know,” Alina said, her green eyes resolute. “But she deserves it.”

  “Even if I hunted all season…” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’d barely have enough.”

  “Then let me help.”

  The words struck him like a blade.

  He looked up, surprised.

  Alina straightened her back, eyes burning with quiet fire. “I’ve been here long enough. I can find work in Ravendale—cook, sew, whatever it takes. You’ve carried too much alone, Darius. You don’t have to anymore.”

  Darius opened his mouth, but no words came.

  He wasn’t used to hands reaching without demand.

  Wasn’t used to being caught when he stumbled.

  And then Lily, who had remained silent, smiled softly and said,

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  She reached out, brushing Malrik’s hair back as he sat in her lap. “Seraphina deserves more than memory. She deserves roots. Something that lives because she lived.”

  She turned to Darius. “A tree grown from her essence would be beautiful. A place the children can sit beneath. A place she still touches.”

  He sighed deeply, dragging a hand through his dark hair, wrestling the weight of pride and the ghosts of loneliness.

  But they were right.

  This was not just about mourning anymore.

  This was about honoring.

  He looked at both women—their hands full of needlework and herb bundles, their laps full of his children. His family.

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  “…Alright,” he said, voice low.

  “We’ll save for it.”

  Alina smiled, eyes bright with purpose.

  Lily reached over and squeezed his hand. Her touch was light, but it anchored him like iron.

  “She’d be happy,” she said gently. “To know she’s still with us.”

  Darius didn’t respond with words.

  But he turned his gaze to the grave.

  And for the first time in a long while—

  he did not feel hollow.

  The earth would remember her.

  And soon, it would bloom in her name.

  The future had begun to take root.

  And it would grow strong.

  Together.

  The stars blinked quietly overhead, veiled behind a thin mist drifting across the treetops. The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting a warm, amber glow across the cottage walls. Outside, the forest whispered in hushes of leaves and distant owlsong, but inside—inside was peace.

  The children slept soundly in the next room, their tiny breaths a lullaby of their own. Rowan curled beside Malrik, their hands often tangling in sleep, while Elara rested with her doll clutched tightly to her chest, her expression no longer haunted but hopeful.

  In the main room, Lily Evermere stirred the evening stew, the scent of roasted meat, thyme, and wild garlic thick in the air. It had been a long day—planting herbs, checking traps, washing little hands—but this moment, in the quiet firelight, felt like the reward.

  “I’ve been thinking about the future,” she said suddenly, her voice thoughtful as she stirred.

  Darius, seated at the table with a mug in his hand, looked up.

  “What about it?”

  Lily set the ladle down with a soft clink. She turned to face him and Alina, her eyes steady.

  “When they turn ten, we should consider sending them to the Academy in Ravendale.”

  The words hung in the air like the first drop of rain before a storm.

  Darius’s brow furrowed. He leaned back, arms folding across his broad chest.

  “The Academy?”

  Alina tilted her head, curious.

  “What’s it like?”

  “It’s where they’ll learn everything,” Lily explained. “Combat. Magic. History. Survival. Everything they’ll need to choose who they want to be—not just react to the world, but shape it.”

  Darius was silent for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as the firelight cast long shadows across his weathered face.

  “I never had an education,” he muttered. “I learned from fighting. From bleeding. From staying alive.”

  Lily took a step closer, her voice soft but firm.

  “And you became one of the strongest men I’ve ever known. But don’t you want more for them? A life where they get to choose what they fight for? Who they become?”

  His silence said more than words.

  After a pause, he gave a slow, almost reluctant nod.

  Alina’s eyes shimmered as she looked toward the room where the children slept.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” she said gently. “And I’ll help however I can. I want that future for them too.”

  Darius looked at her, something quiet and raw shifting behind his eyes.

  “…Thank you.”

  The crackle of the fire filled the room.

  The stew bubbled.

  And for a long moment, they said nothing at all.

  Until Darius spoke again—his voice hoarse, thick with emotion he could no longer contain.

  “…I don’t know what I would’ve done without you both.”

  Lily turned to him fully now, her eyes softening as she crossed the room. She placed a hand over his. A moment later, Alina did the same.

  Darius inhaled shakily. His hands, so used to gripping swords and bracing against pain, now trembled from something deeper.

  “I never thought I’d need anyone,” he said, voice breaking. “But you… you saved me. You saved Elara. Malrik. You gave us a life again.” He swallowed, the words caught behind his teeth. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

  Alina shook her head.

  “You don’t owe us anything,” she whispered.

  Lily smiled, her voice like the light of dawn.

  “We’re family now, Darius.”

  And for the first time in months, his expression—once so guarded, so carved from stone—opened.

  He looked at them both, and the oath in his voice was ironclad.

  “…If you ever need anything—anything—I will be there. I swear it. I’ll protect you, just as you protected us.”

  Lily gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “And we will always be here for you, too.”

  Alina nodded, her eyes shining in the firelight.

  In that small, quiet moment, under a sky of stars and the gentle breath of sleeping children, something unspoken took root.

  Not just survival.

  Not just rebuilding.

  A future.

  A family.

  A vow.

  And for the first time since the night he held Seraphina’s lifeless hand…

  Darius Valtor allowed himself to believe in something more than just getting through the next day.

  The sky blushed with the faintest hues of pink and gold as morning crept over Ravendale. Mist still clung to the grass, and the air was cool, thick with the scent of dew and distant wildflowers. The world was quiet in that sacred moment before the day truly began.

  And as if drawn by the stirrings of change, Fenrir and Nyx vanished into the woods before the first rays of sunlight kissed the cottage rooftop.

  They returned before midday.

  Not with howls or triumphant growls, but with purpose—emerging from the trees like shadows turned solid, eyes gleaming, jaws wet with the scent of blood and wild earth.

  Between them, they dragged the bodies of two massive stags, their antlers proud even in death. Several smaller game animals trailed behind—hares, fowl, and a wild boar—all cleanly killed, not torn or ravaged, but presented.

  A gift.

  A statement.

  A promise.

  Alina gasped, stepping forward from the porch with a hand to her chest.

  “This is more than enough for us!” she said in awe, eyes wide.

  Darius strode forward, his expression a mix of surprise and pride. He knelt beside the stags, running his fingers along the clean cuts on their necks.

  “More than enough to eat,” he said with a small grin. “To tan the hides, and sell the rest for coin.”

  Lily laughed, stepping beside Nyx, running her fingers through the sleek midnight fur. The wolf leaned into her touch, tail wagging with subtle delight.

  “I think they sensed we were saving for the Earthheart Seed.”

  Darius chuckled, patting Fenrir’s thick side.

  “Good wolves.”

  Fenrir let out a low, proud huff.

  Nyx licked her lips, clearly pleased with herself.

  The sun crested higher, casting golden light over the clearing. It filtered through the tall trees, dappling the grass with warmth and life. The scent of the hunt mixed with the perfume of spring blooms.

  In that moment, the air shifted—not with wind, but with certainty.

  The grief was still there.

  It always would be.

  But it no longer clung like a shroud.

  It had become something gentler.

  Something woven into the roots of who they were becoming.

  Seraphina was gone.

  But she had not left them empty.

  She had left behind Elara’s strength.

  She had left behind Malrik’s promise.

  She had left behind the echo of her love, now carried by the hands that fed, the arms that held, the hearts that endured.

  And that love—steadfast, patient, unspoken—

  Had become their foundation.

  The Earthheart Tree would come.

  The children would grow.

  The family would endure.

  And as the wolves lay in the grass, bellies full and heads raised to the sun, and Darius stood beside them—flanked by Lily and Alina, his eyes on the path ahead—

  He knew.

  They weren’t just surviving anymore.

  They were living.

  And every step forward was no longer shadowed by death,

  But shaped by the life Seraphina had left behind.

  A new path had begun.

  Not easy.

  But theirs.