The laughter finally began to die down, although the room still pulsed with the strange, giddy energy of too many powerful beings behaving like unsupervised children.
Dusken was sprawled in the corner in his humanoid form, chest heaving from laughter, while Crenna mock-glared at him for completely sabotaging their turn in the Trust Game.
Veyna and Kael were standing off to the side, exchanging smug looks over their narrow, hard-won victory, though whether it was teamwork or pure stubbornness that got them there was anyone's guess.
Father Delran shook his head in weary amusement, muttering something about "herding drunk gods," while Dr Elira Throne calmly sipped her wine, looking far too entertained for someone who usually dealt in cutting people open.
The Myrrh Twins whispered back and forth, looking utterly delighted.
Jules was still fuming with her arms crossed, while Sylen smirked at her, the smugness barely covering the faint, almost fascinated glint in his violet eyes.
Niah, caught between second-hand embarrassment and the absurd urge to laugh, caught Zaire's eye.
He just raised his glass slightly in salute, that devastating half smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Alright," Zaire finally called out, voice warm but commanding enough to cut through the noise, "I think we've proven none of us is to be trusted."
A ripple of laughter answered him.
"Trust Game was an absolute disaster," Crenna declared, wiping a tear from her eye.
"And somehow," Veyna said, exchanging a glance with Kael, "Kael and I still technically won."
"On a small point," Kael added, smirking.
Dusken snorted from his corner. "Cheaters."
"Someone's Jealous," Veyna shot back.
Amidst the playful banter, Jules elbowed Niah lightly. "Next time, you warn me before throwing me into a den of lunatics."
Niah whispered back, grinning, "But Jules, you love it."
Jules huffed. "I plead the Fifth."
Sylen, sprawled dramatically across the back of a chair, drawled, ''Next time, darling, you'll have to try harder if you want to outdo me.''
Jules didn't miss a beat, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. ''Next time, I'm bringing a pepper spray, you idiot.'"
The entire room roared with laughter, and at that, even Father Delran let out a reluctant chuckle.
Zaire clinked his glass gently against his own in mock solemnity.
"Operation Mayhem: successful."
* * *
As the night wore on, the warmth shifted, still lively, but softer, deeper.
The allies drifted into smaller groups.
Kael and Veyna were arguing lightly over who had cheated first, Father Delran and Dr Throne talking quietly about old battle strategies, the Myrrh Twins animatedly sketching something onto the tablecloth with invisible ink.
Niah slipped outside, needing a breath of fresh air after so much noise.
The laughter from inside the house faded into a muffled hum behind her.
Out here, under the wild sprawl of stars, it was just Niah and the vastness of the world she still barely understood.
The wind whispered against her skin.
She hugged herself tighter, trying to slow the wild beating of her heart.
"You always did love the stars," came a low and familiar voice behind her, a jagged thing wrapped in velvet.
She turned.
Zaire stood there, his coat open, dark hair tousled by the night wind, a shadow cut from something older than time.
His eyes weren't just silver now, they burned, molten and raw, staring at her like she was the only thing left worth looking at in all the worlds.
"How do you know?" she asked, barely breathing.
"I always knew you," he said hoarsely, voice breaking at the edges.
And then, without thinking, Niah took a step forward.
Zaire closed the distance in two strides, hands coming up to frame her face with a tenderness that trembled in his touch.
He didn't kiss her immediately.
He just looked at her, his eyes searching, drinking her in like he didn't quite believe she was real.
"Esme," he said her name like a vow, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath shaky. "You came back to me."
"I'm here," she whispered.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't soft. It was a crash, a claiming, a desperate shattered thing that slammed through her like a storm.
His mouth covered hers with a force that stole the air from her lungs, leaving only him, imprinted in every part of her being.
His hands slid from her face to her waist, pulling her so close their bodies melded together with no space left between them.
One hand tangled roughly in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss even more.
She clutched at his coat, fisting the fabric, needing something to hold onto before she fell apart.
He kissed her like he was starving. Like he had been waiting lifetimes to taste her again and would not be denied.
Niah whimpered softly into his mouth, the sound pulling a guttural noise from Zaire deep in his chest, half-growl, half-prayer.
When he finally tore his mouth from hers, they were both panting. Their lips swollen and cheeks flushed.
Their foreheads pressed together again, and she realised her hands were still clinging to him, as if she let go, the whole world would unravel.
His voice, when he spoke, was wrecked and reverent. "You're mine," he breathed. "You've always been mine."
And she whispered back, broken and whole in the same breath, "And you're mine."
The stars spun above them, but neither of them noticed. All that existed was the taste of each other.
The feel of arms locked tight.
The burn of lifetimes stitching back together in a single, shattering kiss. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Esme knew she was home.
* * *