The celebration that followed was quieter than the first.
There was food, because there was always food when Sally was involved. There was music—Leo had taught himself to play a reed flute in the weeks since the sanctuary construction began, and the sound of it drifting across the courtyard was unexpectedly beautiful. There was the particular warmth of family gathered close, of news shared and received, of a future that suddenly felt more real than it had before.
But underneath it all was the waiting.
The stones were still cold.
System was still silent.
The shadow was still somewhere out there, patient and hungry and watching.
Alex sat at the edge of the courtyard as evening fell, the snakelings curled around him in a warm pile. Ripple was asleep across his lap. River was wound around his wrist, awake but quiet. The others were scattered nearby, their scales catching the last light.
Naga found him there.
