Page 104 of Enslak

"Thank you for having us," Niki said, her voice easy and warm.

Mother pulled back, her hands still gripping my arms, her eyes searching my face. The silver circlet caught the light as she tilted her head. "You look like yourself. More yourself."

"I'm getting there," I said, the words coming easier now. "Still gaps. Still things I don't remember. But it's better."

"That's all I could hope for." Her voice cracked as fresh tears spilled over. "I'm so sorry, Enslak. So sorry we didn't find you sooner. That we gave up—"

"Mother." I covered her hands with mine, feeling the contrast between her delicate fingers and my larger ones with their elongated claws that would never go away. "You thought I was dead. You had every reason to believe that. You can't blame yourself for grieving."

"But I should have known," she said, her voice breaking. "A mother should know. Should feel it. I should have kept searching—"

"You did everything you could," I said firmly, meaning it. "And I'm here now. That's what matters."

She nodded, wiping at her eyes, but I could see the guilt still weighing on her. It would take time for her to forgive herself. Maybe she never fully would.

But I could give her this—my presence, my recovery, my forgiveness.

Charick stood and clasped my shoulder briefly. "Brother." His grip was firm and familiar after the hours we'd spent talking since Avalon, filling in gaps and sharing memories. The hard conversations were behind us.

"Charick." I returned the gesture, grateful for his steady presence.

Kavak caught my attention next as my other brother rose slowly with an uncertain expression, one hand moving to button his jacket before stopping halfway, as if unsure whether this moment called for formality or intimacy.

We'd barely spoken since my return—just brief words over comm when everything was still raw and unclear.

"Enslak," he said quietly. "It's good to see you like this. Yourself again."

"Kavak." I moved toward him, and after a moment's hesitation, he pulled me into a fierce embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said against my shoulder. "Sorry we didn't find you sooner. Sorry for—"

"Don't." I pulled back and met his eyes. "We're here now. That's what matters."

He nodded, his throat working. Then he turned to the red-haired human beside him. "This is Olivia. My mate."

"Hello, Olivia. It's nice to meet you." I held out my hand the way humans did in greeting.

Olivia looked at it for only a moment before pulling me into a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she murmured. Then she released me and turned the same affection on Niki. "Both of you."

Kavak watched his mate with an expression that suggested behind the stoic exterior, he was completely besotted.

"I voted for the mercy death," he admitted, his voice rough. "On the Bardaga. When Mother asked us what we thought should be done. I said..." He swallowed hard. "I said you were too far gone. That it would be kinder to let you go."

The admission hung between us, heavy and painful.

"I know," I said quietly.

"I was wrong." Kavak's eyes shone with unshed tears. "So wrong. And I'm sorry. I gave up on you when I should have had faith. Should have believed—"

"You saw what everyone else saw," I interrupted. "A broken creature that couldn't speak. Couldn't recognize anyone. Couldn't function. You made the decision you thought was merciful." I gripped his shoulder and felt the stiff fabric of his uniform beneath my palm. "But Niki saw something different. She saw past the walls I'd built."

"He was worth saving," Niki said simply.

My chest tightened with something I couldn't quite name.

Willa stepped forward with the small boy still in her arms. "I'm Willa," she said, her voice warm. "Charick's mate. And this is Titus. Your nephew."