Six months.
Half a year had passed since the Starling Gale first dropped anchor in the lagoon. The silence of the island, which had initially felt unnerving to a group used to constant war, had now become a rhythm. The rhythm of chopping wood, of waves crashing, of hammers striking nails.
On the plateau overlooking the sea, the skeleton of a home had turned into a body.
It was a large, sturdy structure built from teak and stone. It had a wide porch facing the ocean to catch the breeze, and a roof thatched with thick palm leaves woven so tightly not a drop of rain could get through. It wasn't a palace like the ones in Antima, but to Aarav, it was magnificent.
Aarav stood on the roof, hammering a final beam into place. His shirt was off, hung on a nearby branch. His skin was tanned a deep bronze by the sun, and the lean muscle of a runner had been replaced by the dense, corded muscle of a builder. His hands, once calloused from holding a sword, were now rough from handling timber and stone.
"A little to the left!" Kael's voice drifted up from below.
Aarav looked down. Kael was sitting on a bench he had built himself, whittling a piece of hardwood. His crutch leaned against his knee. He wasn't running around, but his eyes missed nothing.
"It looks straight to me," Aarav called back, wiping sweat from his eyes.
"It is off by two degrees," Kael said without looking up from his carving. "If a storm comes from the east, that beam will endure unnecessary stress. Shift it."
Aarav sighed, smiling. "Yes, sir." He adjusted the beam. Kael's obsession with precision, once used to dissect enemies, was now ensuring their roof wouldn't fly off.
Below, near the garden, Liora was knee-deep in soil. She wasn't using magic to force the plants to grow. She was learning the slow patience of nature. Rows of vegetables and medicinal herbs were already sprouting green shoots.
She stood up, brushing dirt from her hands, and looked up at Aarav. Seeing him up there, outlined against the blue sky, strong and safe, sent a familiar warmth through her chest.
"Lunch is ready!" she announced.
Aarav slid down the ladder, landing lightly on the grass. He walked over to Liora, grabbing her by the waist and planting a dusty kiss on her cheek.
"You're filthy," she laughed, pushing him away but not really meaning it.
"I'm productive," Aarav grinned. He grabbed a towel and wiped his face.
They gathered around a rough wooden table on the porch. Mara had just returned from the ship. She looked restless.
"The Starling is patched up," Mara said, biting into a grilled fish. "Hull is scraped, sails are mended. She's bored, Aarav. Ships aren't meant to sit in lagoons forever."
"And captains aren't meant to be farmers," Aarav noted. "You want to go."
"We need supplies," Mara justified, pointing her fork at him. "We need metal tools, seeds, cloth, salt. I can't forge iron with coconuts. I'm thinking of making a run to the free ports in the south. It'll take a month, maybe two."
The table went quiet. It would be the first time their group separated.
"Take the ship," Kael said quietly. "Aarav and Liora are safe here. I will watch over the island. But we need iron. My blade is..." he touched the hilt of his broken sword, which he had reshaped into a shorter knife. "...inadequate for hunting the larger boars in the deep woods."
Aarav looked at Mara. "Are you sure you can handle the crew alone? Wait, you don't have a crew."
"I'll find a crew," Mara winked. "Plenty of sailors out there looking for work now that the Syndicate is gone. Don't worry, kid. I'll come back. Who else is going to bring you spices? This fish is bland."
It was decided. Mara would leave at dawn.
That evening, the atmosphere was bittersweet. They spent hours sitting on the beach, drinking fermented coconut wine Mara had concocted (which tasted like jet fuel), recounting stories of the Spire. For the first time, the stories didn't feel like trauma; they felt like history.
As the fire died down, Kael retired to his small hut near the treeline—he insisted on sleeping apart, acting as the outpost guard. Mara went to the ship to prep for departure.
Aarav and Liora walked up to their house. Their house.
The bedroom was simple—a large bed frame Aarav had built, with a mattress stuffed with soft dried moss and covered in clean linens. The windows were open, letting in the sound of the ocean and the silver moonlight.
Liora walked to the window, looking out at the Starling Gale.
"It feels strange," she whispered. "Thinking of her leaving."
Aarav came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "She needs the horizon, Liora. Just like Kael needs to guard something. Just like you need to nurture."
"And what do you need?" Liora asked, turning in his arms.
Aarav looked at her. In the moonlight, her eyes were the only ocean he wanted to sail.
"I have what I need," he said.
He lifted her up, sitting her on the windowsill. The night air was warm, but her skin was warmer. He kissed her, slow and deep, his hands sliding up her thighs.
Liora hummed into the kiss, wrapping her legs around him. "The bed is right there," she murmured against his lips.
"I know," Aarav said, kissing her neck, inhaling the scent of soil and wildflowers that clung to her. "But I like the view here."
He unlaced her tunic, letting it fall to the floor. The moonlight painted her skin in shades of ivory and pearl. She was more beautiful to him now than she had ever been as a mystic guide. She was real. She was home.
"Aarav," she gasped as his hands found her, teasing, worshipping.
He carried her to the bed then, laying her down with a reverence that made her heart ache. But when he joined her, the reverence turned to passion. They moved together with the easy familiarity of lovers who knew every curve, every sigh, every trigger.
There was no rush to finish, no fear that this might be their last night. They had time. An ocean of time.
Later, as they lay tangled in the sheets, Liora tracing the line of Aarav's chest, she spoke softly.
"I've been thinking about the garden," she said.
"Do we need more carrots?" Aarav asked drowsily.
"No," Liora smiled, taking his hand and placing it on her flat stomach. "I was thinking... we might need to plant something else. Something that takes a little longer to grow."
Aarav froze. He opened his eyes, looking at her face. She was watching him, a mixture of hope and nervousness in her eyes.
"You mean..." Aarav's voice cracked.
"Not yet," Liora whispered, interlacing her fingers with his. "But soon. The world is safe now, Aarav. It's time to fill it."
Aarav felt a surge of emotion so strong it almost knocked the wind out of him. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair.
"Yes," he whispered. "Soon."
The next morning, they stood on the beach and watched the Starling Gale raise its sails. Mara waved from the helm, her silhouette stark against the rising sun.
"Don't get too fat while I'm gone!" she yelled.
"Bring back some decent rum!" Kael shouted back, leaning on his crutch.
They watched until the ship was just a speck on the horizon.
Then, they turned back to the island. Back to the house on the hill. Back to the life they were building, brick by brick, breath by breath.
The war was a memory. The peace was the reality. And the future... the future was just beginning.