Myrelion sat in the stillness of dawn, cradling one of the newborns—his daughter—against his chest. Her tiny breaths rose and fell in rhythm with his heartbeat. The silence of the house was no longer empty; it was peaceful, alive, whole.
The last few days had been a whirlwind. Sleepless nights. Diaper mishaps. Lira's tired but warm smile as she balanced feeding and comforting the twins. And through it all, Myrelion never left her side.
He had killed. He had infiltrated noble halls and slayed monsters in the depths. He was a weapon forged in shadow and pain.
Yet nothing had prepared him for this—the gentle tug of an infant's grip on his finger or the way Lira's eyes lit up when he rocked the cradle just right.
He was no longer just a blade in the dark.
He was a father.
That realization haunted and healed him at once.
That night, as moonlight painted the edges of their bed with silver, Myrelion sat beside Lira, watching her breastfeed the quieter of the twins.
"Lira," he said, his voice low.
She looked at him, tired but radiant, the child curled against her shoulder.
"I thought I'd forgotten what it meant to feel… human," he continued. "You brought that back."
He reached into the pocket of his tunic and pulled out a small ring. It was forged from Voidsteel and sunstone—a mix of his essence and hers, twilight and dawn bound in a single band.
"Will you marry me?"
Lira's eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief. "Myrelion… are you sure?"
"I don't do things unless I'm sure."
Her hands trembled as she set the baby down gently and nodded with tears in her eyes. "Yes," she whispered. "A thousand times, yes."
He slid the ring onto her finger and kissed her hand, his heart pounding for the first time in years not from fear—but from hope.