As night settled over the swamp and forest, the dojo stood again. Scarred. Imperfect. Alive.

  Sir Dracks stood at the edge of the platform, watching the stars. Lucky joined him.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “I don’t know what happens next. With Heaven. Rezok. All of it.”

  “Neither do I,” he said.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “But,” she added, smiling, “I know I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sir Dracks looked at her then—not as a warrior, not as a liability, not as another potential loss.

  But as family.

  “You may stay,” he said. “As long as you wish.”

  Lucky grinned. “Careful. I’ll start calling you dad.”

  He snorted despite himself.

  Behind them, Fang watched—and for the first time in a long while, felt like the future wasn’t just something to survive.

  It was something that could be built.