Chapter 135 A Happy Ending?

Chapter 135 A Happy Ending?
Kate's POV.

7 YEARS LATER.

The sun was draped over the backyard like a golden silk sheet, warm and thick, smelling of freshly cut grass and the sweet, cloying scent of vanilla frosting. It was the kind of afternoon that felt permanent, as if the universe had finally decided to stop spinning and just let this moment breathe.

Seven years had passed since the war that had nearly shattered the supernatural world. Seven years since we had walked away from crowns, and the heavy burden of destiny. Standing here now, watching the colorful balloons bob in the light breeze, I felt like a completely different person than the girl who had once been hunted by shadow monsters.

"Lucia! No, sweetheart, the frosting goes in your mouth, not on the dog!" I laughed as I stepped off the porch, watching our daughter, Lucia, giggling as she sat on the grass. At three years old, she was a whirlwind of energy, possessing my stubborn streak and Domenic’s striking, intense green eyes. She was
human—fragile, beautiful, and mortal. When she was born, I had looked at her tiny, perfect fingers and felt a terror so profound it nearly choked me. But Domenic had held us both, his skin cool against my feverish heat, and promised me that he would spend every second of his eternal life ensuring she never knew
a day of fear.

"I think the dog likes the vanilla flavor, Kate," Domenic said, appearing soundlessly at my side. He slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.

Even after five years, the touch of him still sent a spark through my veins. He looked exactly the same as the day we met—timeless, handsome, and devastatingly elegant even in a simple button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

I, however, had changed a bit. My body carried the soft marks of motherhood. I had stayed true to my decision; I had refused to be turned. I wanted to age with my daughter, to feel the passage of time as humans were meant to, and Domenic had never once pressured me otherwise. He loved me for my mortality, even if it meant he would eventually have to say goodbye.

"She’s a mess," I whispered, leaning my head back against his shoulder. "But she’s perfect."

"She is her mother’s daughter," he murmured, kissing the top of my head.

The sound of a car door slamming and a high-pitched exclamation interrupted us. I didn't need my husband’s supernatural hearing to know who it was. "If anyone makes me walk more than ten feet from this car, I am going to start a war!"

Quinn waddled—there was no other word for it—around the side of the house, looking like a very beautiful, very grumpy human balloon. She was eight months pregnant, her belly protruding proudly beneath a flowery maternity dress. Behind her, Lysander followed, laden with brightly wrapped gifts and looking as though he were ready to catch her if she so much as tripped on a blade of grass.

"Happy birthday to my favorite niece!" Quinn cried, abandoning her grumpy facade the moment she saw Lucia. She lowered herself slowly into a lawn chair, gesturing wildly. "Lucia, come give your Auntie Quinn a kiss before this baby decides to use my ribs as a xylophone again."

Lucia shrieked with joy, abandoning the dog and running toward Quinn with sticky, frosting-covered hands. Lysander caught her just in time, lifting her up with a laugh.

"Careful, little one," Lysander said, his eyes glowing with that soft, contented light he only wore when he was around Quinn. "Your aunt is currently a delicate
ecosystem."

"I am a planet," Quinn corrected, patting her stomach. "A planet with its own gravity. Lysander, get me a cupcake. No, two. And one for the kid."

As the afternoon wore on, the backyard filled with laughter. We sat under the shade of a large oak tree, the four of us catching up on the lives we had built in the quiet corners of the human world. My mom was going to come over later in the evening.

We talked about Karina and Sarah, who were currently traveling through Europe, living the life of luxury Josh had provided for them.

Eventually, the conversation turned toward home—the other home. "I got a letter from Camille yesterday," I said, toy blocks clattering as I helped Lucia build a tower. "She says the kingdom hasn't been this stable in centuries. She and Josh are doing incredible work."

Domenic nodded, a proud smile touching his lips. "She was born to lead. And with Josh at her side, the vampires actually have a reason to care about the future. They’ve opened the borders to the other factions. It’s a true alliance now."

"And how is little Lorenzo?" Quinn asked, through a mouthful of cake.

"He’s doing well," Domenic answered. "Camille says he’s already showing signs of his father’s temperament. Calm, observant... but he has that vampire speed. She says trying to keep a toddler who can move faster than the eye can see inside a palace is a nightmare."

"Prince Lorenzo," I mused, the name sounding regal and strong. "He’ll be a great king one day."

The peace of the afternoon was infectious. It was the life I had dreamed of during those cold nights in the vampire castle. My best friend was happy, my husband was by my side, and my daughter was safe. My life was perfect.

But beneath the surface, a cold shiver lingered.

I looked away from the group for a moment, my eyes tracking a hawk circling high in the cloudless blue sky. As I watched it, the memory of the dream I’d had two nights ago came rushing back, hitting me with the force of a physical blow.

In the dream, the sky hadn't been blue. It had been the color of bruised plums, choked with thick, black smoke. I had been standing on a hill overlooking the supernatural realm, but it wasn't the peaceful kingdom Domenic described. It was a battlefield. I saw vampires clashing with Lycans, witches casting spells, dragons throwing fire that turned the earth to glass, and shadow monsters emerging from the ground like a plague.

And then, I had seen him.

Khaos.

He was sitting on a throne made of jagged obsidian, perched on a mountain far above the carnage. He wasn't fighting. He wasn't helping. He was just... watching. He had caught my gaze in the dream, and his eyes which used to be friendly and flirty, flashed with hatred and anger. He hadn't said a word, but the message was clear: Peace is just a pause between wars.

I felt a cold hand on mine and gasped, snapping back to the present. Domenic was looking at me, his brow furrowed in concern. The others were busy watching Lucia open her presents, but his focus was entirely on me.

"Kate? You went away for a second," he whispered, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Are you thinking about the dream again?"

I swallowed hard, trying to shake the image of the burning sky. "It felt so real, Domenic. The smell of the smoke... the look in Khaos's eyes. He saw the world ending, and he just sat there."

Domenic reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was solid. "Kate, it was just a nightmare. You’ve been through so much trauma; it’s only natural for your mind to play tricks on you. Camille and Josh are in control. Khaos is probably having the time of his life somewhere in the supernatural world. There is no war coming."

"But what if there is?" I asked, my voice barely audible over Quinn’s laughter in the background. "What if this peace is just a game to him?"

"Then we will face it if it comes," Domenic said firmly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that brooked no argument. "But look around you, Kate. Look at our daughter. Look at our friends. We aren't warriors anymore. We are a family. Don't let a shadow from the past steal the joy of the present."

I looked at him, seeing the absolute sincerity in his face. He loved me. He would protect us. I took a deep breath and forced a smile, nodding slowly. "You're right. I’m just being paranoid. I have a three-year-old to protect; I don't have time for imaginary wars."

"Exactly," he said, kissing my cheek.

I rejoined the party, laughing as Lucia finally opened the gift from Quinn—a miniature, hand-carved wooden castle. I helped her set it up, playing the role of the happy mother, the lucky survivor. I watched the sun begin to dip toward the horizon, painting the world in shades of orange and pink.

But as the shadows grew longer across the grass, that unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach didn't go away. I looked at Domenic. He was laughing at something Lysander said, his hand resting protectively on my chair. Everything was perfect. Everything was peaceful.

Yet, as I pulled Lucia onto my lap and felt her small, warm heart beating against mine, I couldn't stop my hands from trembling just a little. The sun was
setting, and though I wanted to believe Domenic's words that everything was okay, I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

The dream hadn't felt like a memory. It had felt like a warning. And as the first star appeared in the sky, I found myself silently praying to the Moon Goddess. Please. Just let us have this. I don't think I can handle any more traumas.