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The creature stared. "Mine?"

Poppy smiled through tears. "Yours."

It looked at me. I nodded once. The creature stepped backward. The cracks across its body began to close. Roots of light withdrew from the earth. The pressure on the veil eased. Just before it passed through the doorway, it paused. "Not alone?"

Poppy's smile trembled. "Not anymore."

The creature crossed. The door sealed. The breach snapped shut. Silence crashed over the clearing. Then sound returned all at once. Birds erupted from the trees. Wind rushed through the branches. Somewhere nearby, water began flowing beneath the frozen ground. The Moonbells opened. Every one of them. Poppy sagged against me.

I caught her.

"Did we do it?"

"Yes."

"Mrs. Wilton?"

The fairy magic beneath the earth brightened. Warmth spread through the clearing. "She lives."

Poppy laughed. Then cried. Then wrapped both arms around my neck. I held her without hesitation. No fear. No confusion. No need to question why.

Her lips brushed my throat. "I love you."

I closed my eyes and buried my face in her hair. "I know."

She pulled back. "That is not an acceptable response."

"It is accurate."

"Azaren."

I looked into her eyes. The woman who had bound me. Annoyed me. Challenged me. Saved me. Mine.

Not because I owned her. Because I had given myself to her freely. "I love you, Poppy."

Her smile broke across her face like sunrise. Then she kissed me. And for the first time in my existence, I understood why humans spent so much time searching for home.

I had found mine.

I stood in the middle of the clearing for a long moment after the last Moonbell closed its petals, staring at the place where the breach had been. The ground was whole again. Ordinary frost melted under ordinary November sun. Birds sang like nothing in the world had almost ended. My mind kept circling the same impossible truths. I loved a demon. He loved me back.

We had just helped create a pocket realm for a lonely ancient thing that had once nearly destroyed a world.

I was still just… me. No wings. No horns. No magic of my own. I thought the Frankenpunch had skipped me completely. Yet somehow I had ended up with more than I ever could have wished for.

Azaren stood a few paces away, wings half-furled, watching me with that quiet intensity that made my stomach flutter. His injured wing was already knitting itself back together—infernal healing worked frighteningly fast—but he held it carefully, as though the memory of nearly losing me hurt worse than the wound itself.

I turned to him. "Azaren?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you fly us home?"

His brows lifted slightly. "You enjoyed that?"

I nodded. The gleam on my face must have told him everything, because one corner of his mouth curved and the dimple appeared. He opened his arms without another word. I took a step forward, when I suddenly remembered, "Oh..."

My smile vanished. "No."