Seven years had passed since the night they saved the world, and yet only a handful of them would ever know it. Andrew had gone from a restless prodigy to the youngest dean Halberd Academy had ever had. Emma was now a respected professor at Aramond, her quiet brilliance matched only by the now warm steadiness of Jason, who had stood by her side since their engagement three years ago. Kate's novels bittersweet, powerful things had made her a household name. But some scars from their shared past still lingered. Not everyone had made it back.
Kate stepped out of the glass conference hall, the low hum of the city swallowing the echoes of the meeting she'd just wrapped up. The cool evening air hit her face, carrying the faint scent of rain. She tugged her coat closer around her shoulders, her mind still buzzing from the pitch for her newest book.
Then she saw him.
Andrew leaned casually against a sleek black car at the edge of the lot, a quiet anchor amid the movement around him. White shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows; grey trousers fitted enough to hint at the strength beneath. Black leather shoes polished to a muted shine. His right hand was gloved, a subtle echo of the life he now lived. He was scrolling something on his phone, but when his eyes flicked up and caught hers, it was like time briefly folded.
He looked older, sharper. Not aged just more… carved. Every line of him exuded a calm mastery that hadn't been there before.
Kate's breath caught. He's more handsome than I remember. And manlier, too.
Andrew's lips curled into that small, familiar smile. "Going somewhere, milady?" His voice had the same playful undertone, but deeper now, more grounded.
"Yes," Kate said, adjusting the strap of her bag, "and I'm pretty late."
"Want a ride?" he offered, tilting his head towards the car.
Kate smirked. "I don't take unexpected rides from strangers."
"That breaks my heart," Andrew said lightly, his smile widening just enough for her to see a flash of the boy he used to be.
Kate hesitated only a beat before walking toward him, her heels clicking softly on the pavement. She reached him and, without overthinking it, wrapped her arms around him. The scent of him something dark felt achingly familiar.
"I'll make an exception for you, stranger," she murmured into his shoulder.
Andrew's arms tightened just slightly around her, a warmth that felt more like home than surprise. "I was hoping you would."
Across town, Emma sat curled on the couch of her and Jason's apartment, papers spread over the coffee table. Jason walked in from the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea, setting one gently in front of her before sitting down beside her. She smiled soft, automatic and leaned into him.
Their engagement had started quietly, without spectacle, three years ago. Jason had proposed with no grand speech, just a ring and trembling hands, because neither of them had ever needed the world to witness what they already knew. Through her lectures at Aramond and his quiet work rebuilding the lives shattered by their old battles, they had built a rhythm together. Jason still had a faint limp from that final fight, a scar on his temple Emma often kissed without thinking.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You're lost in thought again," he said.
Emma looked at him, her eyes softening. "Just thinking about everyone… about how far we've all come."
Jason smiled, a little wistfully. "Yeah. We made it. Mostly." He pressed his forehead against hers. "I'm glad you're still here."
"I'm glad you are too," she whispered.