Night settled over Earth like a slow, unaware exhale—soft, muted, and tragically ignorant of the worlds trembling because two young hearts refused to sever their connection.
She stood on a beach of pale, crystal sand. The water was unlike anything known on Earth—a luminous, impossible sapphire, slick and glassy as it kissed the shore. Above her, Woewyn's twin moons hung low, a pair of ancient, benevolent eyes.
This wasn't Earth.
This wasn't real.
But it felt more like home than any place she could physically touch.
Damon stood there, ankle-deep in the shallows, his trousers rolled. Laughter echoed in his voice as Daichi—now massive, the size of a giant wolf—snapped playfully at the retreating waves.
"Daichi!" she shouted, joy pulling her across the glowing sand. "You'll scare the eternally surprised fish away!"
Daichi barked in a way no terrestrial wolf ever could, his enormous tail wagging a furious, frothing rhythm in the impossible blue water.
Damon turned toward her.
And the entire fabricated world stilled.
His smile—gentle, crooked, undeniably Damon—snapped every fractured piece of her chest back into place with the force of sudden, overwhelming relief.
"Natsuki," he breathed, his voice soft as the tide. "You made it."
She didn't question the impossibility. Dreams demanded no logic; only honesty.
She reached him.
He took her hand—easily, naturally, the contact familiar and anchoring, like an essential nutrient she had been starving for.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.
She nodded, the lie catching in her throat as longing pressed against her voice box. "I… I just missed you so much."
Damon's thumb brushed her knuckles, lingering. "I missed you, too."
It was everything she needed.
Everything she could never truly have.
A cold, unfamiliar wind shifted.
A crack of pure white light suddenly ripped across the sky—thin, sharp, like a pane of glass fracturing under strain.
Natsuki's breath hitched.
"Damon…?"
He looked genuinely confused, trapped fully within the dream. "What's wrong?"
Another crack.
Then another, spider-webbing across the luminous darkness.
The sky cleaved in white. The beaches water went dull. Damon's hand — warm a breath before — ghosted cool in hers.
"Wait—" She gripped him with desperate strength. "Don't—don't go—"
His silhouette began to shimmer, fading at the edges like smoke.
"Natsuki?" His voice thinned, laced with panic. "Natsuki, I'm right here, what's happening—"
She tried to pull him close, to anchor him, but he was slipping through her like water.
"No—! Damon, please—!"
His form collapsed into drifting, silver particles of light, vanishing with a final, chilling silence.
Then, immediate, suffocating darkness.
Her eyes snapped open.
Her pillow was wet in sweat.
Her lungs were burning, breathing ragged and desperate in the mundane silence of her bedroom.
"I can't…" Her voice broke into a desolate whisper no one heard. "I can't take this anymore."
On Woewyn, Damon hadn't slept.
Not even a minute.
Each hour on this side tightened around him like a fist. Two days on Woewyn meant two weeks had passed on Earth. Natsuki would have reached out, even for a trivial reason.
So why didn't she?
Why had the Shard stayed silent?
"Is Natsuki okay…?" The questions looped, a self-inflicted torture he couldn't shut off.
When the pale, blue Woewyn sun finally rose, he went straight to the throne room.
Queen Thessa stood with her generals, reviewing boundary reports. But the moment Damon entered, her senses—trained by a millennium of conflict and motherhood—sharpened.
"What happened?" she asked, cutting straight to his panic.
Damon didn't hesitate. "Natsuki hasn't contacted me in two days."
Nyra—lounging against a crystalline column, utterly bored—grinned lazily. "Two days without your lover and you're already—"
"Two days here," Damon cut her off sharply, his voice raw. "Is two weeks on Earth."
Nyra's smirk dissolved, replaced by sudden alarm. "Oh."
Queen Thessa frowned. "How would she contact you, Damon? Earth tech won't cross planes."
Damon inhaled, pulling himself together. "The first day I arrived. When Nyra took me shopping?"
"For Natsuki's gift," Thessa recalled, nodding slowly.
"I didn't buy tech. I bought the Shard of Luminaris."
The Queen's exhale folded the room. Her eyes softened.
"That shard answers only when two souls are tethered. If it's been mute—then I understand."
She stamped a red-wax emblem onto a parchment and handed it to a hovering attendant.
"You are allowed to go. But," she added, meeting his gaze, "I will accompany you."
Damon stiffened. "Mom— I don't want you to have to—"
"I won't stare at you two," she smiled faintly. "I have someone I need to see as well. Richard."
The name hung heavy with shared, complex memories.
"And Woewyn?" Damon asked, anxious. "Who's ruling while we're gone? What if a kingdom attacks?"
"We've negotiated well. For now, we are at peace," she replied, her gaze sliding pointedly toward Nyra. "And Nyra will govern."
Nyra squeaked. "I— what? Me??"
The Queen paused, a flicker of amusement crossing her face.
She yielded. "Fine... but only if Damon gives me access to his cave crystals."
Damon exhaled, half-relieved. "Deal. But don't break anything."
Before the tension could break further, Damon felt a familiar, swirling energy signature approaching at high speed.
Queen Thessa raised a hand, stopping the generals. "No interruptions," she warned the guards without looking back.
The guards obeyed.
Damon nodded. "Let's go."
They walked into a field of low, glowing bushes, each petal storing shimmering droplets like captured tears. Fairies darted between them in trails of iridescent light.
Hazel hovered above three flowers, her arms crossed tight.
"Magnus! South-west corner!" she scolded a tiny, glittering sprite. "We don't need nightmare-dew mixing with joy-dew—it ruins the eternas!"
She then turned—saw Damon—and her entire expression ignited like a miniature sunrise.
"Damon!" she squeaked, zipping straight to him and delivering a soft, weightless hug to his forehead. He lifted a hand so she could sit on his palm.
"It's been a long time," Hazel chirped. "What brings you to Lullabough?"
"Natsuki hasn't contacted me," he said quietly, holding his breath.
Hazel's bright face fell instantly.
Hazel rose; dust trailed like scattered constellations. She dove into the petals and surfaced with one pale-blue droplet cupped in her hands.
She hovered over Damon, breath held. "You chose right," she said. Tone certain.
"What just happened?" He asked, fascinated.
"I accessed the remnants of Natsuki's recent dreams, her deepest emotions."
"What did you see?" Damon asked, leaning in.
Hazel smiled mischievously, a finger to her lips. "I can't tell you, obviously."
She zoomed to Queen Thessa and whispered something in her ear.
Thessa—the thousand-year queen of Woewyn—put a hand over her mouth and actually giggled.
"Hazel!" Damon protested. "How is that fair?"
Hazel hummed proudly. "Mothers are allowed spoilers."
She lifted her small arms.
A portal blossomed open—smoother and steadier than any Damon had conjured.
Damon bowed his head in profound thanks.
Hazel whispered as he stepped through, her voice full of pride. "Young love… go fix it."
Earth air hit him like a mix of sharp nostalgia and aching heartbreak.
Blue sky. Warm wind. Comforting, familiar gravity.
His mother touched his shoulder. "Meet me at home when you're done."
He nodded, already running.
He ran through the streets like a mortal again.
He reached her window.
Her painting was still on display—Mount Fuji, the pagoda, emerald sunlight, lilac leaves. A landscape halfway between Earth and Woewyn.
She hadn't moved from this room.
She had been waiting.
Damon felt everything inside him—the worry, the stress of the kingdom, the sleepless nights—go unbearably soft.
He climbed onto the small balcony.
Inside, Natsuki leaned on her desk, face buried in her hands.
Then she froze.
She sensed him.
She turned.
Her breath vanished, as if sucked from the room.
"...Damon?"
He stepped in, taller, broader, wearing his sleepless worry like a visible second skin.
"Hi," he breathed.
She walked to him slowly, every movement hesitant, as if terrified he would dissolve again. She stopped a single, tense step away.
"You've grown," she whispered, her voice rough.
"And you look like you haven't slept since I left," he countered, his voice equally rough.
Silence settled between them. Heavy, searching, trembling with unspoken things.
"Why didn't you activate Luminaris?" he asked softly, looking at her distressed face.
Her throat tightened. "I… I thought maybe you were busy. Or—or that you didn't want to talk. And then I did—and I saw…"
Her voice broke completely. She looked down at the floor, unable to finish.
Damon gently lifted her chin.
He lowered his head until her forehead pressed to his, their breaths trembling together in the tiny space between them.
Damon's voice was barely a whisper.
"Natsuki… how do I put this?" He paused, gathering the heavy confession.
"When I'm with you… everything feels lighter," Damon said.
"Like my chest isn't constantly carrying the weight of two worlds.
Natsuki's breath caught, a tiny, sharp sound.
"You make things feel possible. Even for someone like me. You look at me and don't see a prince. Or a weapon. Or what I might become."
His voice cracked faintly.
"You just… see me."
Her thumb stroked his cheek, trembling like a leaf.
"And I want that," he whispered. "I want you. I want a life where I get to choose you."
He let out a deep, shaking breath.
"But lately… you feel like a dream I'm not worthy to chase."
Her eyes glistened. A tear finally slipped free, tracking a clean line down her cheek.
She placed a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing the faint sleepless shadow beneath his eye.
"Damon…" she whispered, her voice shaking with the same emotion. "That means more than anything you could've said."
She took a breath—a fragile, deliberate steadying one.
"Promise me something," she murmured, her gaze unwavering.
"When the world tries to pull you apart… you'll reach for me first."
His breath trembled against hers.
"I will," Damon whispered fiercely. "Every time."
He swallowed hard.
"Promise you'll let me be part of your life. Not just the happy parts. All of it. The messy parts. The parts that scare you. I can take it. I want to take it. With you."
She nodded slowly, the fierce light returning to her eyes.
"I do," she whispered, leaning in, a tiny, relieved laugh escaping her. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
He opened his mouth to say something more, but she gave him no chance.
Her mouth found his, slow and certain, like a truth she'd finally decided to speak. It was a full, certain kiss, claiming the promise they had just made to defy the distance between heartbeats.
Meanwhile, his mother stood at the old, humble doorstep, breathing shallowly.
She knocked.
Once.
Richard opened the door.
He froze, his expression cycling through disbelief, memory, and profound sadness.
Then he smiled—a painful, infinitely soft smile.
Thessa broke.
The tears she hadn't shed for centuries fell.
She hugged him without meaning to, clinging to him like a lifeline.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered into his shoulder. "Richard, I am so sorry…"
He held her gently, his arms strong and comforting.
"I've missed you, Thessa."
More tears fell.
"I never deserved your kindness," she managed.
"And I never stopped caring," he replied.
They talked for hours—a quiet, human, simple conversation.
Something she hadn't had in a millennium.
Damon arrived, a new, grounded warmth surrounding him.
Richard hugged him, fiercely and briefly.
The Queen brushed her thumb over Richard's cheek one last time.
"Take care of them, Thessa," he said, his smile genuine.
She nodded, tears spent.
Then she and Damon stepped through the portal.
As the otherworldly light swallowed him up, Damon touched his lips, the warmth of Natsuki's kiss, a real, physical thing.
For the first time in a long time… Damon wasn't afraid of tomorrow.