Debrief

Debrief
Elliot
By the time the tension in the room thins enough to breathe again, Envy’s leaning against the doorframe, one hand on her hip and the other twirling a pen like she’s been taking notes on our emotional growth.
“Well,” she says finally, “that could’ve gone worse.”
Macey turns toward her, half laughing, half sighing. “Could it, though?”
“Oh, definitely.” Envy’s grin widens. “No one got hexed, throttled, or banished twice in one sitting. That’s progress.”
Elias looks like he’s about to argue, but Envy claps her hands together, the sound sharp enough to silence a god. “Right! Since everyone’s still alive and vaguely civil, let’s call that a win. And to celebrate your miraculous restraint, I’m officially inviting you all to dinner. Tomorrow. Family dinner. Packhouse garden. I’m cooking.”
Reigna blinks. “You’re cooking?”
Xavier’s voice drifts in from the hallway. “We’re supervising.”
“Same thing,” Envy says cheerfully.
Macey raises an eyebrow. “Is this a dinner or a trap?”
Envy grins. “Both, probably. But there’ll be food, and you’re coming. Non-negotiable.”
Macey opens her mouth to protest, but I squeeze her hand before she can. “We’ll be there.”
Envy beams like she just personally ended world hunger. “Perfect! See, this is why I love you two. Always so cooperative.” She leans in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Also, Elias, wear something nice. You’ve got a lot of grovelling left to do.”
“Envy,” Macey warns.
“What? It’s constructive advice!” She waves a dismissive hand, already backing toward the hallway. “Alright, my work here is done. Tomorrow evening. Don’t be late. And no dramatic entrances, we’re saving those for Lyra.”
She vanishes through a portal before anyone can reply, leaving behind the faint smell of coffee, cinnamon, and chaos.
The silence that follows is heavy but not unbearable. Elias rubs the back of his neck, glancing between Macey and me. “Thanks for hearing us out. Really.”
Macey nods once, her tone careful. “Don’t make me regret it.”
He almost smiles. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Later when we portal back to the Underworld, the weight of the mortal world falls away like a layer of dust. The air here is cooler, still shimmering faintly from the Veil’s pulse. The river outside the palace windows reflects silver and black, endless as the sky.
Macey exhales the moment we step through. “I forgot how heavy it feels up there.”
“Family drama has its own gravity,” I say, earning a tired laugh.
We make our way down the hall together, our footsteps echoing softly against the marble. She slips her hand into mine, her thumb tracing idle circles over my palm — a habit she’s picked up lately, something that always manages to calm us both.
“You handled that well,” I tell her quietly. “Better than I would have.”
Her mouth twitches. “I wanted to yell. But yelling doesn’t fix anything.”
“No,” I agree, “but it does feel good sometimes.”
She snorts. “Next time, I’ll let you do the yelling.”
“I’ll bring a list.”
That gets a real laugh out of her; it fills the hall with warmth, chasing away the last of the tension. By the time we reach our chambers, the exhaustion has set in. Macey kicks off her boots, drops her jacket onto the chair, and flops backward onto the bed with a groan.
“Socialising is exhausting,” she mutters.
“You faced down a goddess without blinking,” I say, pulling off my own jacket. “But one conversation with your ex–best friend and you’re ready for an exorcism.”
“Exactly,” she says, eyes closed. “You get it.”
I chuckle, crossing the room to sit beside her. “Envy’s really planning a dinner?”
“I'm she’s been waiting for an excuse,” Macey says, cracking one eye open. “It’s been months since the coronation, and she’s bored. If she doesn’t get to micromanage something, she’ll start redecorating something again.”
“Gods forbid.”
“She’ll probably bring half the pack,” she continues, rolling onto her side to face me. “And Lyra, Dorian, Kieran, and Felix too.”
“I’m okay with that,” I say. “Feels like it’s time for something normal again.”
“Normal for us or normal for everyone else?”
“Let’s not get ambitious,” I tease.
Her smile softens then, that rare, private smile that’s just for me. “You’re really not mad about Elias?”
I shake my head. “I was. But… he’s my brother. I don’t want to lose him over something that already hurt us both enough and he deserves to be happy too. The Moon Goddess clearly paired them for a reason.”
Her eyes glisten faintly, though she tries to hide it with a small shrug. “You’re a better man than me.”
“That’s debatable.”
She laughs softly, then reaches up to trace the edge of my jaw. “Thank you. For standing by me.”
“Always,” I say, because it’s not just a promise, it’s the truth. There’s no world, no realm, no eternity where I wouldn’t.

Later, when the quiet settles again, I pour us both a glass of dark wine from the side table. Macey sits cross-legged on the bed, her hair falling loose over her shoulders, her face relaxed for the first time since we left this morning. “To surviving another round of emotional warfare,” I say, raising my glass.
She clinks hers against mine. “To Mum's dinner being edible.”
“That’s a risk.”
We drink, and the tension eases completely. For a while, we talk about small things: the souls we reaped this week, the currents in the river, the stubborn shadow-beast that keeps nesting near the east wall. Ordinary things, in the most extraordinary place.
Eventually, she leans against me, her head resting on my shoulder. “You think Mum is serious about this dinner?”
“She’s always serious about food,” I say. “And meddling.”
“Fair point.”
The soft thrum of the Veil echoes faintly in the distance, steady and balanced—the way it was meant to be. I glance down at her, and for the first time today, I feel peace sink all the way in.
“Tomorrow,” I say quietly, “we’ll go. We’ll eat. We’ll see everyone.”
She hums in agreement, her voice already drowsy. “You think it’ll be weird?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “But in the best possible way.”
She laughs under her breath, curling closer against my chest. “I love you, Elliot.”
I smile into her hair. “I know, my Queen.”
Her breathing slows, steady and soft. I hold her there until the candles burn low, the shadows stretch long, and the only sound left in the palace is the quiet rhythm of our heartbeats — two steady echoes, perfectly in sync.