The sun had begun to dip when the laughter subsided, and the plates were cleared. After the chaos of the past days, the late lunch felt almost surreal, like peace was borrowing time. The core group had gathered again around the long dining table in Renee’s residence, the air warm with stories, teasing, and a fragile calm.

Christofer, ever the quiet observer, raised his goblet in mock solemnity. “To survive a fire, blood, bureaucracy, and midterms.”

Glasses clinked. Damien smirked. “Add ‘public scandal’ and ‘demonic trauma bonding,’ and it’s a full resume.”

They laughed again.

Then the door opened—and Cecil entered.

He looked worn down. His usually sharp robes were rumpled, and his braid was messier than usual. He carried the weight of someone who had spent too long stabilizing things others had broken.

Renee stood instantly.

“Cecil.” Her voice softened, eyes lighting up as she moved toward him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Cecil managed a tired smile. “So am I.”

He sat beside her, taking a long breath as if the air here was finally clean.

“I need to talk to you,” he said quietly. “About the clan.”

The table quieted.

Renee’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

Cecil glanced down. “The area we’re staying in… it’s changing. Fast. Construction, industrial growth. It’s not a sanctuary anymore. The city’s pushing in on us. And healing clans… we don’t thrive in steel and noise. We need nature. Quiet.”

He looked up at her. “We need to relocate. I was hoping Arcadia might be open to taking us in.”

Renee didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” she said. “Come. The mountains north of the capital are protected. Plenty of room. I’ll make it official by tomorrow.”

Relief flooded his face.

“Thank you.”

“In fact,” she added, “we’ll set up a formal enclave. A sanctuary under royal seal. Your people deserve safety that can’t be rezoned away.”

Cecil’s eyes gleamed, and though his shoulders remained heavy, they finally looked less alone.

That evening, Renee sat cross-legged on the couch, Damien’s hoodie wrapped around her like armor, her phone warm in her hand. She hesitated a moment, then hit Call.

Queen Valethrina answered on the second ring, her face appearing on-screen with practiced poise—and instant alarm.

“Renee?” she said sharply. “You look like you’ve been dragged through fire. What happened?”

King Cael’s image joined hers, equally tense. “Report.”

Renee held up a hand, already bracing. “I’m okay. I swear. I'm just... recovering. A ritual a few days ago. It was complex and draining—but I’m stable now. Nothing’s wrong.”

Her parents didn’t look convinced.

Valethrina narrowed her eyes. “What kind of ritual?”

Renee hesitated just long enough for them to notice.

“The kind I didn’t want to involve anyone else in,” she said. “Not dangerous—just personal. Intensive. I had help. I’m recovering.”

Cael studied her through the screen. “You’re not telling us something.”

“I’m telling you what you need to know,” Renee said carefully. “I’m not bleeding out, I’m not cursed, and I’m not dying. You taught me to handle things on my own. I did.”

Valethrina’s voice softened just slightly. “Then why call?”

Renee drew a breath. “Because Cecil came by today. His clan has to relocate—their area’s being swallowed up by expansion. I offered them sanctuary. North Arcadia, near the lake.”

Cael leaned back. “Good. That region needs restoration anyway. It’s well-warded, and the locals are loyal. We’ll begin the paperwork and supply allocation.”

Valethrina nodded. “And we’ll make sure the healers have what they need. Thank you for telling us.”

Renee hesitated, then quieted, “And there’s one more thing.”

Both royals focused.

“I found him,” she said. “My chosen.”

Cael’s brows lifted slightly. “You’re certain?”

“It locked on my birthday,” Renee said, her voice steady. “I didn’t expect it to, but… there it is.”

Valethrina tilted her head. “Damien?”

Renee nodded. “Of course.”

A silence followed.

Then Cael said, “He’s loyal. I trust him.”

Valethrina’s voice was softer. “I hope he knows what it means to be bonded to you.”

“He does,” Renee said. “And he chose it. Long before I ever said it out loud.”

Her mother studied her a moment longer, then nodded once. “Good. Take care of yourself. Don’t wait until you’re this drained to call.”

“I won’t,” Renee said. “I love you both.”

“We love you too,” Valethrina replied, still watching her like a puzzle half-solved.

The call ended.

Renee set the phone down, her breath quiet in the stillness.

A voice behind her: “You didn’t tell them the truth.”

Damien stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“No,” she said, not turning. “They don’t need to know. Not yet.”

“About the dragons?”

“About Salem,” Renee added quietly. “About who I’m becoming.”

Damien walked over and knelt before her, resting his hands on her knees. “They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know,” she said. “But by then, I’ll be strong enough to carry it.”

He smiled faintly. “You already are.”

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. “But it still helps when you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”