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I’ll make it up to you.

Love you, my sailor.”

Roy placed the memory plate on his nightstand. He stretched on his bed, which invited Buttercup to hop over and rub her snout all over Roy’s stubble. Roy hugged her and buried his face into her fur, despite her quiet grunts.

Cal would be home soon.

It seemed too good to be true.

Epilogue

Nerves stirred in Roy’s gut like a whirlpool. He dipped his hand into his pocket and fished out sticks of grief incense. The sweet smell wafted through the wax paper. He must have left it there yesterday after returning from the shrine. On the eve of soulbinding, tradition dictated honouring those who had passed. He had lit three sticks, one for each of his parents. The third one was for Milo. Cal helped him reach the brass nameplate.

Glancing into his bathroom mirror, Roy spat out a black hair. The culprit—Buttercup—bumped against his legs, threatening to shed all over his formal wear. He crouched and caressed her generously white-peppered muzzle.

“My old girl,” he whispered into her fur, gently scratching her cheeks.

Buttercup purred, then limped away to the living room. Cal had constructed little padded stairs after the few times she attempted to jump but tumbled over. She climbed them and curled on the cushion, tail hanging down.

“Nervous?” Adria asked, combing the hairspray along his temples. She now stood as tall as Roy, long locks of blue hair hanging to her waist.

“Slightly.” Roy huffed, straightening his collar for the thousandth time.

“It’s just a ceremony.” She smiled, patting Roy’s shoulder. “No worries. If Cal tries to run away from the altar, I’ll trip him and drag his ass back to where it belongs.” She kissed Roy’s cheeks, wiping the traces of her purple lipstick with her thumb. “To you. Now, let’s make you look less like a tired raccoon.”

With a chuckle, Roy’s looked up. Adria patted concealer under his eyes. He had barely slept the previous night—not because of fear, but because the separation from Cal fell unexpectedly heavy. It was just one night, far less than the seven lonely years of war. And yet, his body couldn’t find a comfortable position, and his mind stayed alert, aching each time he glanced at the empty spot in his bed.

The shrine of the High Spirit stood on a tall pyrite hill. Roy cursed silently as they climbed the endless stairs, panting when they finally reached the top. If only they’d done it sooner, perhaps he wouldn’t have suffered as much. But years accumulated after Cal returned from the war; business kept them occupied, then other worries came, and the right time never did. Until their eleventh anniversary came.

The wooden door opened. Wreaths of chamomile lined the arches. Roy had seen the soul-binding rituals a few times—some friends, distant family members—but never expected to find himself in the sacred water.

At least not until he made his promise to Cal.

The seated guests’ chatter floated through the shrine. At the end of the aisle, the shrine’s pastor, Brother Veles, waited, twirling a colourful rope. He met Roy’s gaze with a slight smile and a courteous nod.

Adria stopped at the front row and threw herself around Roy’s neck, gripping him tightly. “Good luck. The universe knows you’ll need it with my brother.”

“I have my tricks, after all this time,” Roy laughed, returning the embrace. “But thanks.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Cal’s parents sitting in the first row. Adria joined them and exchanged a whisper. They hadn’t talked in years, but Cal had recently started letting them back into his life.

Roy unfastened his shoes and toed them off, stepping onto the sacred ground barefoot. The slippery, cold pyrite bit into his skin, sending a shiver up his neck. When he reached the altar, he shook hands with the monk and clasped hands, waiting for his soulmate, who stayed true to himself by being fashionably late.

Cal finally appeared. Roy’s breath caught in his throat.

Seeing Cal walk toward him, the purple fabric glistening in the flickering torchlight… Roy swallowed hard. He extended his arm when Cal stepped onto the sacred ground, lacing their fingers.

“Hi,” Cal whispered.

“Hey, you.” Roy smiled and squeezed his hand.

Brother Veles greeted them, then started the ceremony in the interplanetary language. “Dear soulmates and dear guests. Welcome to this sacred place. We have gathered today to witness the blessed union of two souls. Caelestian Aethros Reyn, son of Aurelia and Tollian Reyn. And Roy Toggio, son of Hela and Reginald Toggio.”

Roy’s fingers twitched. Cal glanced at him, his thumb brushing the back of Roy’s hand.

“Not many can say their happiness fell from the sky. But our brother Roy can—quite literally. The Universe decided to bind Caelestian’s fate to endless outer space. He was born light-years away from the orbit of his home planet, and he crashed into the seas of Pyraxis, only to meet the love of his life.”

“Now, Caelestian and Roy, please enter the Eternal Water. May your love never fade.” Brother Veles gestured toward the shallow basin, filled with seawater. Roy had always wondered what kind of trick they used to create the illusion—as soon as the couple entered, a whirl of wind wrapped around them, carrying petals of chamomile and pyrite dust, glimmering as it flew through the roof window above them.