His smile fades into something more serious. "How are youreallydoing with all this savior stuff? The stones, the realms, the whole 'chosen one' gig?" His voice softens. "You don't have to pretend with me, Dani. I know that face—it's the same one you wore when you bombed that organic chemistry final."
With everyone else, I maintain the brave face. But this is Damon. He's seen me ugly cry over rom-coms and stress-eat an entire box of Cap'n Crunch at 3 AM.
"It's... complicated," I admit. "Some days, I feel this incredible rush—like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. Other days, I just want to wake up back in my lab, where the biggest crisis was contaminated cell cultures." I swallow hard.
The fire pops loudly, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.
"The hardest part is the goodbyes," I continue, my voice growing quieter. "Mom and Dad, John—all dying because they were connected to me." My fingers twist together in my lap. "Then there's the other kind of goodbyes, the ones that come after I've made these incredible connections across realms. Mirella with her bravery, Gideon and his fierce loyalty, Axilya's strength, Fadreyn's kindness, Nixie's wisdom..."
My throat tightens as the last name forms on my lips. "Gullfax." It comes out as barely a whisper, the memory of the majestic stallion's constant protection still raw enough to steal my breath.
I blink hard, forcing back the tears. "And then there's the betrayals..." I swallow the lump in my throat. "I trusted him. We all did. Adrian—" My voice breaks on the name. "I'm so damn tired of people I care about either dying or turning out to be villains in disguise. It's like emotional whiplash on a cosmic scale."
Damon reaches over, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like Dad used to do. "Mom and Dad would be so proud of you," he says softly. "Dad would be strutting around telling everyone his daughter is saving the world. And Mom..." his voice catches, "Mom would be force-feeding everyone her terrible tuna casserole."
"God, that casserole," I laugh through tears. "Remember when she tried to 'improve' it with kale?"
"And Dad ate three helpings just to make her happy—"
"Even though it tasted like hot garbage wrapped in cheese!" I laugh softly, memories flooding back. "Almost as bad as her infamous 'healthy' chicken pot pie, where she substituted cauliflower for literally everything."
"Oh god," Damon groans, covering his face. "That monstrosity! Dad called it 'cloud paste surprise' behind her back."
"And we all got food poisoning because she didn't cook the chicken long enough," I add, tears of laughter mixing with grief now. "But she was so proud of that recipe."
We share a watery laugh, memories of our parents filling the space between us. Two years apart in age, we've been inseparable since they brought him home—from playground bullies to broken hearts to Dark prophecies.
"I miss them so much," I whisper. "Every time something big happens, I reach for my phone to call Mom. And then I remember..."
"Me too," Damon admits. "Last week, I saved a meme to show Dad." He clears his throat. "But you know what? I'm ridiculously proud of you, sis. And not just for the savior stuff. You've always been my hero, even before you started collecting magic rocks and dating Norse gods."
"Please. I was the nerdy sister who made you watch documentaries instead of cartoons."
"You were the sister who beat up Tommy Larson when he stole my lunch money," he counters. "Who stayed up all night helping with college applications. Who convinced Dad to let me take that road trip—"
"The one where you tried to drive to Portland and ended up in Forks?"
"That was ONE time! The GPS was possessed!"
"Uh-huh. Blame the technology, typical millennial."
He flicks my arm. "Says the woman who asked Alexa to turn off the shower last week."
"I was distracted!"
"By what? Rhyland's abs? Again?"
I grab a pillow and whack him with it. "You're one to talk! I've seen you walking into walls because you're too busy staring at Sable."
He catches the pillow mid-swing, vampire reflexes on display. "No rules against supernatural advantages in sibling warfare."
"Just wait until I get all seven stones," I threaten. "Then we'll see who's laughing, Mr. Bloodsucker."
His expression softens. "You will, you know. Get all the stones. Save the realms. The whole shebang." His conviction is unwavering. "If anyone can do it, it's you, Dani."
"Even if I screw up sometimes?"
"Especially then. Because you never stay down. You get back up, make a sassy comment, and keep going." He reaches for my hand. "And you're not alone. Not ever."
