Family. Noise. Life. Love

Family. Noise. Life. Love
Envy

If anyone ever tells you organising a family dinner is easy, they’re lying. Especially when your family includes four Alphas, a King and Queen of the Underworld, several teenagers with questionable chaos restraint. By the time the last of the tables are set, I’m sweating like a sinner in a confessional.
“Alright!” I clap my hands together. “Everything looks amazing. Fireflies, check. Music, check. Minimal chance of explosions—” A loud bang erupts near the buffet table, followed by a sheepish, “Sorry!” from Felix.
I close my eyes. “Never mind. We’ll call that decorative ambience.”
Haiden snickers as he walks past, carrying a crate of wine. “You love this chaos.”
He’s not wrong. The packhouse garden glows under strings of golden lights, the river glinting just beyond the treeline. The long tables are draped in black silk and flickering candles. It’s beautiful, not coronation-level grand, but perfect in its own wild way. Family. Noise. Life. Love.
I feel a warm arm loop around my waist and glance up at Xavier, who presses a kiss to my temple. “You did good, Luna.”
“Damn right I did,” I say, smirking. “Now go make sure Levi doesn’t try to roast the marshmallows with lightning again.”
He laughs, releasing me. “No promises.”

By the time I make it to the front steps, I spot Elliot and Macey, arriving through a soft ripple of shadow and light. Gods, they look good together. She’s radiant even in something simple, a soft dress the colour of honey and moonlight, and he’s got that relaxed, dangerous ease about him that screams King even when he’s smiling like a fool at her.
“Look who decided to grace us with their divine presence!” I yell, waving them over.
Macey rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You invited us, remember?”
“Semantics.” I pull her into a hug before she can argue, squeezing until she squeaks. “You look happy.”
“I am,” she says, glancing toward Elliot. “We both are.”
He nods, smiling that small, content smile of his. “You outdid yourself again.”
“Of course I did,” I say breezily. “Perfection is my brand.”
Behind me, Xavier calls out, “And stress. Stress is also your brand.”
“Quiet, husband!” I shout back, which makes everyone laugh.

Dinner unfolds like a storm. It's loud, messy, full of laughter. Plates clatter, wine flows, and I swear the night hums with something old and something good. Milly and Reigna have taken over the dessert table, arguing affectionately about frosting techniques. Charles and George sit side by side, debating fishing methods like it’s an Olympic sport. The quads — my beautiful disasters — occupy the far end of the table, bickering between mouthfuls of food.
Lyra leans over her plate, eyes bright. “Mum, you didn’t tell me the Underworld was this pretty.”
“Technically,” I say, pouring myself more wine, “this is still the mortal realm.”
“Still counts,” she says, grinning. “The stars look different when Macey and Elliot are around.”
“That’s because their magic screws with the atmosphere,” Levi mutters affectionately.
Macey, from across the table, hears him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He raises his glass. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”
Laughter ripples down the line. Even the air feels lighter tonight. Elliot’s sitting beside Macey, one arm lazily draped across the back of her chair, his fingers tracing idle patterns against her shoulder. They’ve both got that look, the kind of ease that only comes when you’ve survived hell together and come out laughing. And honestly? That’s what I’m proudest of. We’ve all lived through enough darkness. It’s nice to see the light holding steady. We all eat dinner without anyone yelling too much at anyone. Tessa and Elias seem to be welcomed enough, though Macey avoids Tessa like she's...well Tessa.

As the night stretches on, the conversations scatter into smaller clusters. I catch snippets of Xavier telling a story about the old training grounds. Noah is teaching Kieran how to set off a firework without singeing his eyebrows. Haiden is trying to stop Dorian from throwing food across the table. I take a sip of wine and glance toward the garden edge where Macey and Lyra have drifted. Lyra’s standing close to her, listening intently, eyes shining in the glow of the lanterns. There’s something about the way she looks at Macey... It's not just admiration, but wonder, like she’s trying to memorise what love looks like when it’s earned. When she hugs Macey goodnight, it’s tight, fierce, full of the kind of affection that makes my chest ache. But then, something flickers in Lyra's eyes, and she goes very still. It happens in an instant, the faintest shimmer across her irises, like moonlight passing through water. For a heartbeat, I swear her whole body glows, soft and silvery, before it fades. She blinks rapidly, shaking her head.
Macey frowns. “You okay?”
Lyra hesitates, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just… dizzy for a second.”
“You sure?” Macey presses.
Lyra nods. “Totally fine. Probably too much sugar.”
I don’t buy it, but I don’t call her out either. She’s pale, but smiling, and she’d rather die than admit something’s weird.
Elliot’s watching too, sharp as ever, but when Lyra squeezes Macey’s hand, he lets it go... for now. The music picks up again, and the night folds into laughter once more. Still, as I lean against Xavier’s shoulder, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s shifting...quiet and small, but inevitable.

Later, when most of the guests have gone, and the river hums low in the dark, Macey stands with me at the edge of the garden.
“She’s glowing, you know,” I say softly.
Macey glances at me. “Lyra?”
I nod. “Only for a second. Like moonlight catching her skin.”
She exhales slowly, her expression unreadable. “It’s starting, then.”
“What is?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer. She just smiles a quiet, knowing smile that sends a shiver down my spine.
“She’s stronger than I ever was,” she murmurs. “When it comes, she’ll handle it.”
And with that, she turns back toward Elliot, who’s waiting for her by the firelight, his hand outstretched. I watch her walk toward him, the Queen of the Underworld, the girl who once feared she wasn't enough, and I realise that everything really has come full circle. We were alone in this world once. Now, we’re builders of peace.

As the music softens and the stars seem to burn a little brighter, I tilt my head back and whisper a quiet thank-you to the gods, to fate, to the chaos that made us family.
Then I grin, because I know something none of them do yet: The next story has already begun.