Page 64 of Storm of Stars
We laughed. It felt good. God, it felt sogoodto laugh and not have it hurt.
Then—
“Briar! Thorne!” Zaffir called out as the twins approached, blood and ash still clinging to their uniforms. We could all go for a nice shower right about now. “Glad to see you two are still alive.”
He reached out a hand to shake theirs, but Briar bypassed it completely, throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug. Thorne followed, his arms looping around them both.
I blinked hard, my throat tightening.
Because Iknewhow much this meant.
Zaffir was Praxis-born, raised behind their walls, shaped by their rules. I always knew that, even if unspoken, there was a thread of tension that tugged between him and the rest of the Wildguard, maybe even Ezra at times. A flicker of doubt, a sliver of blame. It showed in the way their eyes followed him when he first walked through our doors wearing that polished gold and silver. In the way silence hung heavier when the memory of their mother surfaced. Praxis had taken everything from them, and he had worn its colors.
But now?
Now, those colors were gone. So was the distance.
Thorne and Briar pulled him into an embrace like he’d always belonged. And maybe, finally, he did. There was no Praxis on his skin anymore. For the first time, they held him not as a symbol of what had gone wrong…but as one of us.
AsWildguard.
That word has always encompassed Zaffir in my mind but seeing it expand to him in theirs, too, made my heart stutter.
“I assume the little camera stunt back at the hospital was your doing?” Thorne asked, pulling back just enough to eye Zaffir with a raised brow.
“Camera stunt?” I asked, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.
“Of course it was,” Zaffir said, half-grinning. “Wasn’t about to let her get away with that.”
I turned from one to the other, confused.
“They cut the feed,” Zaffir explained. “Right before they sent the guards in. Ended the Run, said they were sending you all home without a victory parade and told us to run the victory montages.”
I nodded slowly. I remembered those montages. I used to watch them with awe, never knowing one day I’d be the star of one.
“But your boyfriend here,” Thorne said with a pointed, charming look, “got the feed back on.”
“So, everyone saw what she did?” I asked, stunned. “To.. Lark?”
Zaffir nodded. “Every last viewer.”
My heart skipped.That…that changed everything. They couldn’t edit that out. Couldn’t change that history. Just the truth, broadcast wide and unfiltered.
“Nice work, Zaf,” Ezra said, a soft smile blooming on his face.
Zaffir shrugged, trying to play it cool. But I saw it, the way his eyes softened under the praise, the way his hand found mine and squeezed like he needed the anchor. He was happy he could do something substantial for this cause.
And there we stood, a messy tangle of scars and love and loyalty. Battered. Bloodied. But together.
Then I turned for the first time toward the small audience we’d garnered, and my breath caught all over again.
“They came,” I whispered, eyes sweeping over the small crowd that had gathered at the edges of our reunion. I didn’t know how long they’d been there. But they watched us like we were the sunrise after a long, brutal night.
“They did,” Zaffir said, smiling as he followed my gaze. “Look.”
He nodded toward a group stepping closer, slowly, deliberately. There was something about them that made my stomach twist. Recognition flickered at the edge of my mind. Familiar faces. Familiar posture. Scars. Stance.Eyes.
And then it hit me.
