“Yeah,” I said finally, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “Just hoping everyone gets what they want.”
“I’m sort of excited to see who we’ll be getting,” Gabe said, lowering himself into the chair across from us.
Both he and Steele had thrown themselves into rebuilding the Angelic Army, reshaping it with new requirements and expectations after it had grown lax under previous command.
It helped that so many from the Rebellion had joined their ranks, but this upcoming generation of recruits was different—curious, excited, unafraid. They’d barely been pre-teens during the war, they’d grown up hearing stories of what had happened while hiding in the mountains, never having known the war itself.
“I already know at least two who’ll be joining us at the Taming center,” Ronan called out, scooping Xavier into his arms and spinning him around. “One of them’s a natural—he actually got that damn dragon to walk straight into the yard when he was volunteering one day.”
I lifted a brow.That was impressive.Ronan ran the Beast Tamer center now, helping guide the new generation of Tamers who no longer saw creatures as possessions but partners. Niz often joined him there, teaching what real trust between species could look like.
“Well, I’m off tomorrow,” Bastian said easily, with a cheeky smile. “The boys and I are going to visit Grandma Astor. She mentioned something about an obstacle course.”
Gabe groaned. “Of course she did. She’s got a new military course in their backyard—she probably wants to show it off to the boys.”
I couldn’t help smirking. I actually loved that. Gabe’s parents would never push our sons into training, but his mother’s love for strategy and discipline was infectious. The idea of her proudly showing off the course to two five-year-olds was almost too perfect.
“Wait—why are you off?” Niz asked, frowning as he approached the table. “It’s a Monday! I swear you make your own hours.”
“Theysuggesthours for me,” Bastian said, flashing a grin, “and I just suggest differently.”
To be fair, he’d earned that freedom. After the war, Bastian had used our newfound political pull in Alfemir to target and remove those in the prison system who’d specialized in torture. No one asked where they went, and no one at the prison demanded justice for them. They were simply—gone.
Since then, he’d worked there as a therapist. It had sounded strange at first—Bastian, of all people, in those halls again—but somehow, it felt right. He counseled those who’d been experimented on, helping them understand that what was done to them hadn’t been right, no matter who they were, or what they’d done before.
Most of the inmates were there for a reason and would stay, but even they deserved the chance to heal. And it gave Bastian the opportunity to make sure no one else had been trapped there as he once was—imprisoned not for their crimes, but for the power they carried.
“And my patients love me,” Bastian said, entirely unbothered. “Do you know how many people think it’s amazing to sit on a lounge chair made of balloons? A lot, Niz. A lot.”
I smirked at that, wondering if he’d actually made his chair out of balloons. I supposed it would diffuse anxiety or tension, but it had to be more than a little uncomfortable. Right?
“I’m hungry!” Sylo called out before Ronan jogged toward the house.
I smiled faintly. Even in peace, none of us seemed to know how to sit still for long.
“Second breakfast!” Xavier shouted, clearly in agreement.
“Come on, both of you, inside,” Steele called, his voice firm but warm. “Or else?—”
Whatever ‘threat’ he’d meant to finish vanished as the twinsshriekedwith laughter and bolted for the door, tripping over each other in their hurry to escape him. Steele gave chase, as he scooped Sylo up mid-stride.
All of my mates were incredible fathers, different in their ways, but perfectly balanced.
Ronan was the steady one, teaching the boys structure and how to keep their footing no matter the situation.
Gabe had patience in endless supply; he taught them gentleness, even when they didn’t think they needed it.
Steele filled the house with noise and competition, turning everything into a game that somehow always ended in laughter.
Niz taught curiosity—how to question, explore, and see the world as something to discover instead of fear.
And Bastian… Bastian reminded them that compassion and power weren’t opposites. That you could protect with all the force in the world and still be lighthearted, even when you were the source of half the chaos yourself.
As we made our way inside and I started toward the stairs to get ready for the day, I noticed the twins already perched at the island, eyes wide and expectant as Ronan lit the griddle. The scent of batter and sugar filled the kitchen, warm and sweet, and for a moment, I paused at the bottom of the stairs, just watching our family—completely at peace and at home.
Niz’s voice carried from the front doorway, a folded letter in his hand. “Commander Soliel sent word that he and Mithrie plan to visit soon—to host a proper wedding ceremony here in Alfemir. I still can’t believe that bastard found a mate. A true wyvern–angel pairing.”
More surprising was that it was Mithrie, the Elementalist specialist who’d become one of our greatest allies and closestfriends. Apparently, they’d met during the war and had been inseparable ever since.
