The Silvanus house on the Pearl Coast was a Victorian relic perched on a cliff overlooking the Pacific. White paint peeled from the siding. The garden was overgrown. The windows faced west, toward the endless gray water.
Lyra arrived three days after her father. The drive from Portland took two hours—winding roads through coastal forest, the air growing saltier with every mile. She parked in the gravel driveway and sat for a moment, listening to the waves.
Inside, the house was frozen in time. Furniture from the 1920s. Dust covers on the chandeliers. A piano in the corner that hadn't been tuned in decades. But someone had been here recently—the kitchen was stocked, the sheets were fresh.
Her father was in the study, reading. "Kael and Aldric arrive tomorrow. There's a cabin further down the coast—the Makah pack uses it for hunting trips. They'll stay there."
"And we meet here?"
"In the evenings. After dark. The town is small—people notice strangers. But they won't question visitors to the Silvanus house. We've been coming here for a century."
Lyra explored the house. It was larger than it looked from outside—three floors, eight bedrooms, a widow's walk at the top. She found her mother's things in one of the rooms. A jewelry box. A collection of seashells. A photograph of a young woman standing on the cliff, her dark hair wild in the wind.
She sat on the bed and held the photograph. Her mother had been happy here. She could see it in the set of her shoulders, the openness of her smile.
I want to see what comes next.
Lyra understood now. Her mother hadn't chosen death because she was tired. She'd chosen it because she believed that whatever came after was worth experiencing. Even if it meant leaving everything behind.
The next evening, Kael arrived.
He came alone, walking up the cliff path from the beach below. His hair was damp from the mist. His jacket was the same canvas one he'd worn the first time she saw him.
"Your father's inside," she said.
"I know. I wanted to see you first."
They stood on the cliff, the ocean crashing below. The sun was setting—a rare break in the clouds, painting the water in shades of gold and rose.
"It's beautiful," Kael said.
"Yes."
He turned to look at her. "Lyra. Whatever happens next—whatever our families decide, whatever the Council does—I need you to know something."
"What?"
"I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to."
She reached out and took his hand. Warm against cold. Real against memory.
"I don't want you to," she said.
They stood together, watching the sun sink into the Pacific, two people who should have been enemies, choosing to be something else.