The morning of Solara's fifth birthday dawned with a sky of perfect blue.
Vaelor stood on the cliffs above the harbor, watching his daughter chase butterflies across the grass. Her laughter was a gift. Her joy was a light. She was small and fierce and full of the same fire that had burned in her ancestors for seven generations.
The sword hung at his hip. Silent. Peaceful. The blade no longer pulsed with light. The legacy was complete. The cycle was broken.
But he knew it was fragile.
Lira appeared beside him. Her hand found his. Her eyes were warm.
"She's going to be a handful."
"She already is. But she's also going to be amazing."
He turned to face his wife. "I've been thinking about the future. About what comes next."
"And?"
"I think we've finally earned the right to rest. To li
