The anniversary of the Conjunction arrived quietly.
There were no great ceremonies, no formal observances—just a quiet morning in which Seraphina stood on the terrace where she had first faced the Voidwalkers and remembered what it had cost to win.
So many lives. So much sacrifice. So many people who would never see the peace their deaths had purchased.
She had added their names to the memorial wall in the Citadel's heart—a wall that now stretched the length of the great hall, inscribed with the names of every Dragon Lord, every dragon, every human who had fallen in the battle against the darkness.
"You should be resting," Kestrel said, coming to stand beside her. "It's barely dawn."
"I couldn't sleep." She leaned into him, grateful for his warmth against the morning chill. "Too many memories."
"Good memories or bad?"
"Both. All." She shook her head. "It feels like a lifetime ago. And also like yesterday."
"That's how it always feels. The moments that change us stay with us, vivid and sharp, no matter how much time passes." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "But we're still here. Still fighting. Still living."
"Still living." She smiled faintly. "I suppose that's victory enough."
"It's more than enough. It's everything." He turned her to face him. "I have something for you. An anniversary gift."
"Kestrel, you didn't have to—"
"I wanted to." He reached into his tunic and withdrew a small object—a pendant on a fine silver chain. The pendant was a dragon, carved from stone that seemed to shift between black and gold depending on the light.
"It's beautiful," she breathed.
"It's voidstone and dawnfire crystal. I had it made by the same artisans who forged your blade." He fastened it around her neck, his fingers gentle against her skin. "The voidstone represents the darkness you faced. The dawnfire crystal represents the light you carry. Together, they remind us that one cannot exist without the other."
"That shadows give meaning to light."
"And light gives hope to shadow." He smiled. "We're both, you and I. Shadow and light. Dragon and human. Past and future."
She touched the pendant, feeling the warmth of the dawnfire crystal against her fingers. "I love it. I love you."
"I love you too." He kissed her, soft and sweet. "Now, your council is waiting. Something about grain tariffs."
She laughed, the sound echoing across the terrace. "Ah, the glamorous life of a queen."
"Glamorous or not, it's yours." He offered his arm. "Shall we?"
She took his arm, and together they walked into the Citadel, toward whatever challenges the day would bring.
Through the bond, she felt Pyre's amusement.
Grain tariffs, the dragon observed. How the mighty have fallen.
At least I'm not washing fish anymore, Seraphina responded.
True. Now you're arguing about fish taxes instead.
The laugh that bubbled up from her chest was genuine, healing, exactly what she needed.
Another year. Another anniversary. Another day of being Queen of Valdren, Guardian of the Barrier, Protector of the Covenant.
And somehow, through it all, she was still herself—still Seraphina Vale of Thornhaven, the fisherman's daughter who had dared to take a stranger's hand and change the world.
That would always be enough.