The torches in the common hall had burned low by the time the last trainees hauled in the final pot of stew. The smell hit like a warm hug: thick chunks of venison from the valley hunts, root vegetables roasted until caramel-sweet, fresh bread still steaming from the ovens, and a faint herbal note from the cider they’d mulled for the kids. Tables had been shoved together into one long mess, benches dragged in from every corner. Tonight wasn’t just dinner. It was proper welcome.

  Garran stood at the head, sleeves rolled, ladling stew with the same steady hands he’d once used to mend fences. Selene moved behind him, passing bowls. Lyric bounced between benches, already claiming the spot next to Toren like she owned it. Nova stayed glued to her mother’s side, but her eyes kept darting toward the food, hungry and curious.

  Rhen watching the chaos with something almost like a smile. “Sit,” he said. “Before Toren eats the table.”

  Toren was already halfway through his first bowl, bread torn in half. “This is the best thing I’ve tasted since… well, ever. No offense to the usual slop.”

  Vel flickered in beside him, stealing a chunk of bread from his plate. “You say that every time we get meat. Sit down, big guy.”

  Lark took a quieter seat near the end, scarred face relaxed for once. Mira slid in across from him, freshly washed. She grabbed a mug of cider and raised it toward Rhen. “To the guy who forgot I existed for three days.”

  Rhen snorted. “To the scout who came back in one piece. Mostly.”

  Elowen helped Selene carry the last trays over, then dropped onto the bench beside Kael. Their shoulders brushed—easy, familiar. She passed him a bowl without asking. He took it, fingers lingering on hers a second longer than necessary.

  Lyric looked up from her stew. “Can I sit on the table?”

  “No,” Selene said gently.

  “Yes,” Toren said at the same time, grinning.

  Selene shot him a look. Toren raised both hands. “Fine, fine. Floor it is.”

  The girl climbed down anyway and started stacking bread rounds into a wobbly tower beside Toren’s plate. “Bet you can’t beat this.”

  Toren leaned forward, serious now. “Challenge accepted.”

  He built his own tower—higher, wider, leaning dangerously. The whole table watched. When Lyric nudged hers and it collapsed, she laughed so hard cider came out her nose. Toren’s followed a second later, bread rolling everywhere.

  Nova giggled—small, surprised, like she hadn’t expected the sound to come out. Vel noticed, flickered over, and made a tiny shadow rabbit hop across the table. Nova’s eyes went wide. “Do it again!”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Vel did. The rabbit chased its own tail, then vanished in a puff. Nova clapped, orange flickers brightening.

  Garran raised his mug, voice low but carrying. “To new roofs. And people who open their doors.”

  Everyone lifted whatever they had—bowls, mugs, bread crusts. A quiet chorus of agreement rolled around the room. Even the trainees, usually loud, went still for the toast.

  Talk drifted after that. Easy things. Garran asked Lark about the scars on his face—old tear-burns, Lark said, from a tear back in the day. “Hurts less now. Mostly reminds me to keep my head up when the sky opens.”

  Garran nodded. “We thought the world ended. Then we saw your lights on the ridge. Like stars that didn’t fall.”

  Selene smiled faintly at Elowen. “The girls keep talking about your warm light. Nova says it feels like sunshine in her hands.”

  Elowen flushed a little. “I’m glad. It used to scare me. Now… I like making it gentle.”

  Kael watched her, quiet pride in the way he leaned closer.

  Mira leaned back, boots on the bench. “Speaking of lights… that thing in Whispering Vale. Blue-white. Cold. Pulsing like it had a heartbeat. Thin patrols, though. We could poke it tomorrow.”

  The table quieted a notch. Strategy had crept in, natural as breathing.

  Rhen set his mug down. “Small team. Dawn. Vel goes first—flicker recon. Mira guides the path. Toren for muscle. I’ll call it. In and out before the ring notices.”

  Vel nodded. “I can pop close enough to map the tear without tripping anything. If it’s a trap, I’ll be back before they blink.”

  Toren cracked his knuckles. “If something’s hiding in there, we pull it out. Or shut it down. Either way, Veyra doesn’t get it.”

  Lark swirled his cider. “And if the patrols aren’t as thin as they look? We need a hard signal to pull back. No lingering.”

  Elowen leaned forward, bowl forgotten. “I want to go.”

  The table turned to her.

  She met Rhen’s eyes, steady. “I’ve been training every day. I’m not just throwing light around anymore—I can control it. If that pulse is anything like mine, I should be there. I can read it. Help.”

  Rhen studied her a long moment. “You’ve come far, kid. Faster than most. But field work’s not the yard. One mistake out there and we’re all exposed. We need you here—holding the Crucible if the ring pushes while we’re gone. You’re our fallback light. The one who can sync with Kael and keep the wards from buckling.”

  Lark nodded. “Practical. You two together are stronger than any of us alone. Stay ready for the real fight.”

  Mira gave her a small, encouraging smile. “It’s not no forever. Just not tomorrow. You’ll get your turn.”

  Elowen exhaled, shoulders dropping a fraction. Disappointment flickered, but she swallowed it. “Okay. But I’m holding you to that.”

  Rhen gave her a short nod. “Good. Rest up. Dawn comes fast.”

  The mood lifted again after that. Toren started another bread-tower contest—this time with Lyric and Nova on his team. Vel taught the girls how to make shadow animals dance on the wall. Garran and Selene shared quiet smiles, watching their daughters laugh and play.

  Kael stayed close to Elowen, not saying much. When the others drifted toward cleanup, he bumped her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Just… wanted to prove it. That I’m ready.”

  “You are,” he said simply. “They know it too. They’re just being careful with you. Means they care.”

  She smiled a little. “I know. Still sucks to sit out.”

  He shrugged. “Next time you’ll be the one dragging me along.”“Damn right.”

  Later, when the hall emptied and the torches guttered, Elowen and Kael stepped outside to the wall. The night air was cool, ring lights distant pinpricks on the horizon. The Crucible glowed warm behind them—orange, white, blue, shadow, all mixed together.

  Elowen leaned on the stone. “Tonight felt… normal. Almost.”

  Kael stood beside her. “We needed it.”

  She looked northwest, toward the Vale. “Tomorrow they scout. We hold here.”

  The horizon stayed silent.

  For now.