Markus wakes up—really wakes up—for the first time in what feels like forever.

  And for the first time, he’s in a bed that’s truly his.

  He blinks at the soft morning light filtering through gold-trimmed curtains, then lets his gaze drift across the elegant baseboards and perfectly matched furniture. Even the walls look expensive, like they belong in a presidential suite.

  Lemres really outdid himself.

  “This house is a little too nice,” Markus mutters under his breath, half amused, half uncomfortable. He still isn’t used to comfort.

  He tries to sit up—then frowns. His legs don’t move.

  Right. Even after all of Alexia’s healing, some things don’t come back so easily.

  “I didn’t say you could get up,” Liddle mumbles, yawning as she stretches and drapes herself across his chest, gently pushing him back down.

  “I’m still napping.”

  “Good morning, sweetie,” Markus says, dragging her a little closer so he can kiss her forehead.

  “How long do you plan on napping? Just so I know when I’m allowed to get up.”

  “Not sure,” Liddle mumbles, flicking his nose with her tail. “But don’t make any plans today.”

  “Must you do this every morning?” Markus asks, running his fingers gently through her hair, brushing it down with slow affection.

  “You know you love it,” she says, eyes still closed, smiling.

  “You’re right, I do.” he admits. “But I do need to get up.”

  Markus kisses her, then wraps his arms around her waist.

  “Okay,” Liddle says at last, sitting up with a long, lazy stretch.

  Liddle helps Markus into his wheelchair, moving with practiced care. With one arm around his shoulder and the other steadying the chair, she guides him down the spiral staircase and parks him beside the kitchen table.

  She moves to the counter, flicks on the coffee pot, and begins frothing milk. The soft hum of the machine fills the quiet kitchen.

  When everything is ready, she adds a splash of vanilla syrup, stirs it gently, and sets the warm mug in front of him.

  “You’ve gotten really good at this,” Markus says, taking a long sip and setting the half-empty mug back on the table with a satisfied sigh.

  “I’m glad you think so,” Liddle replies, rinsing out the milk frother. “I’m hoping to talk you into trying an iced coffee freeze sometime—with magic.”

  Markus chuckles. “Oh, you’re spoiling me.”

  He lifts the mug again and finishes the rest in one go. “I was so worried about you… After the Morgi Dragon attack, I’m just thankful we can relax like this.”

  Before he can say more, Liddle is already wheeling him away.

  “We didn’t get to show you this yet,” she says with a grin.

  She leads him toward the back of the house and opens a door. The room beyond is warm and softly lit—a private spa, complete with a bubbling hot tub, sleek wooden benches, and a built-in sauna.

  “Alexia said it’s a human thing to get naked in those,” Liddle says, motioning toward the hot tub and sauna. “And that you’d love to see me like that.”

  Markus blushes hard. “You two are teaming up on me. I knew it.”

  Liddle tilts her head innocently. “What do you mean?”

  Markus quickly looks away, pretending to study the sauna door.

  “Never mind that. How did Lemres even talk the city into building all this?” Markus asks, still looking around the room.

  There’s a pause. His voice softens.

  “This is… all so much.”

  Liddle leans against the back of his chair, her tail curling lazily around the armrest.

  “Can’t you let yourself have nice things?”

  Markus turns to her, smiling gently.

  “I have you. Asking for more would be greedy.”

  He reaches up and kisses her—slow and quiet, like the world can wait a little longer.

  Liddle glances down at the spa by the door and sighs.

  “Do you really have to go out today? We could just stay here and relax…”

  Markus gives her a soft smile, though his eyes linger on the window, where sunlight spills over a broken city.

  “I’d love that. Really. But it wouldn’t feel right—not while so many people are still dealing with the aftermath of me failing to kill the dragon.”

  Liddle shakes her head.

  “You saved the planet, Markus. Don’t overlook just how many people are still here because of you.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, then nods.

  “I accepted the Life-Giving Blade. That means I have responsibilities now… But I promise—I’m just going to look around. Nothing more. Okay?

  “I’m going with you,” Liddle says, brushing her tail playfully across the back of his neck.

  He flinches with a quiet laugh, but when he turns to look at her, she’s already reaching for her hoodie. She tucks her tail into her pants, hiding it carefully, then grabs the handles of Markus’s wheelchair.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Markus says, watching her with a soft smile.

  The front door eases open with a creak, and sunlight spills across the porch in a golden wash.

  Markus blinks against it. It feels brighter than he remembers—too bright, almost.

  Liddle wheels him down the ramp, and together they roll out into the street.

  The silence hits first. Not the peaceful kind. The hollow kind, where wind moves through broken things.

  Buildings stand half-collapsed, windows shattered, their jagged edges like unhealed wounds. Ash clings to the sidewalks, swept into corners but never gone. A car lies overturned nearby, its frame twisted, left behind like a monument to the chaos.

  He can still smell smoke, even though no fire burns.

  Markus stares.

  Scorch marks blacken the pavement. Steel bones jut where homes used to be.

  But then—

  In the distance, scaffolding rises bright and orange. Fresh. People move across it like ants, passing up planks and beams.

  Farther down the street, children crouch with chalk, scratching flowers, stars, and animals onto the sidewalk.

  A volunteer drapes a blanket over a woman’s shoulders.

  Someone plants a tree.

  Liddle rests her hand on Markus’s shoulder. He doesn’t move.

  His eyes linger on a group of kids playing tag at the edge of the block—darting through rubble as if it were just part of the game. Their laughter bursts sharp and clear, echoing against the broken buildings.

  They don’t seem fazed.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  No fear. No hesitation. Just running, laughing, chasing each other like the world hasn’t ended.

  Markus watches in silence for a long moment.

  “They don’t seem fazed,” he finally says. “Life… it really can keep going.”

  One of the children pauses mid-run and looks his way—a small boy with dusty cheeks and wide eyes. He stares for a second, then lifts his hand and waves.

  Markus smiles and waves back.

  But not all the children are playing.

  A girl sits alone on a pile of bricks and broken glass, tucked into the shadow of a collapsed building.

  Markus blinks. Something about her looks familiar—the messy brown hair, the oversized jacket—

  Then it hits him.

  The fire.

  The family they’d saved with Alexia.

  “Sally?” Markus whispers, already wheeling himself toward her.

  She doesn’t respond—just keeps crying, her small frame shaking with each breath.

  When he gets close enough, she finally looks up. Her eyes are red and raw.

  “It’s you,” she says, her voice breaking.

  Markus doesn’t hesitate. He leans forward and gently lifts her into his arms, letting her press her face into his shoulder.

  “My parents were in the house when…”

  She turns and points to the ruin behind her—the blackened skeleton of what used to be a home, now just debris and ash.

  Markus holds her tighter.

  “Where do you sleep?” Liddle asks gently, kneeling beside them.

  “Oh… um…” Sally tries to answer, but the words get stuck. She glances around, then back at the ruin—and breaks down sobbing again.

  “It’s okay,” Markus says softly, his voice calm and steady. “We just want to help.”

  Sally raises a shaky hand and points toward the collapsed structure again.

  Markus gives Liddle a quiet look. No words—just a shared understanding.

  “Want to come stay with us?” he asks.

  She nods and whispers the only word she can manage:

  “Yeah.”

  Then she breaks down again, tears falling freely as she buries her face against his chest.

  Markus adjusts his arms around her, hugging her closer.

  “Hey,” he says gently, brushing her hair aside. “Wanna ride in the wheelchair with me?”

  She gives a tiny nod.

  Liddle pushes the chair back toward the house, her steps soft against the uneven sidewalk. Sally leans into Markus’s chest, still sniffling but calmer now.

  “I’m sorry if we can’t make it feel like home,” Liddle says quietly. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  At the door, she winces and plucks a small shard of glass from her arm. She flicks it away, then turns toward Sally with a gentle smile.

  “Mind if I take you to the bathroom? I used to get hit with glass bottles until they shattered. I got pretty good at pulling the pieces out.”

  Her voice is casual, but warm.

  “I can help remove all the glass, okay?”

  Sally looks up at her with wide, teary eyes… and nods.

  Markus pulls out his phone and dials.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Alexia answers. “Did Liddle show you the spa? I knew you’d want to thank me.”

  “Hey, can I ask a favor?” Markus says.

  “I’m with Sid right now—he just took off my bra—but sure, I guess I can help you.”

  Markus freezes, his brain short-circuiting for a second.

  “Could you go to the clothing store and pick up some pajamas? Seven-year-old girl size. We… picked up Sally.”

  There’s a beat of silence.

  “Oh. So you’ve started kidnapping now. Good for you.”

  “Alexia, please…” Markus says, his voice quiet. “Her parents died. Her sister’s missing.”

  “Oh.” Alexia exhales. “Just like you… I see why you two get along.”

  Another pause. Then, more gently:

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got some old stuff she can have. The clothing store’s closed, you know.”

  “Oh… right.”

  A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the front door.

  “Did you forget I’m magical?” Alexia says, stepping inside. “Lemres taught me how to make portals. Took me a few tries to stop accidentally opening them to my bathroom, but we’re good now.”

  “Thank you,” Markus replies, taking the clothes from her and handing them to Liddle through the bathroom door.

  A minute later, Sally steps out—barefoot, blinking—wearing a pair of too-long pink pajama shorts and a matching sweatshirt. The sleeves dangle past her hands as she shuffles to Markus’s side.

  Alexia kneels beside her, frowning slightly.

  “You’re still pretty bruised up,” she says, pulling out her staff.

  A soft glow fills the room as she waves it gently over Sally. The girl flinches at first, then relaxes as the pain fades.

  “There,” Alexia says softly. “That should feel better.”

  She smiles at Sally, a touch more warmth in her tone.

  “Markus is a good guy. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here.”

  And with that, Alexia turns and steps through her portal—just a shimmer of light left in her wake.

  “If you’re tired, you can have the couch to sleep on,” Markus says, placing a hand gently on Sally’s shoulder. “I’ll grab a blanket from the top shelf.”

  “Thank you,” Sally whispers as she climbs onto the couch and curls up.

  Liddle slips into the hallway and returns with a blanket. Markus takes it from her and carefully tucks it around Sally, making sure her feet are covered.

  “Get some rest,” he says softly.

  Sally wriggles deeper into the cushions, hugging the blanket tight around herself like a shield.

  “Warmth… at last,” she mumbles, her voice already drifting into sleep.

  Moments later, she’s out—peaceful, still, safe at last.

  Liddle wheels Markus back to the kitchen table and pours him another cup of coffee. She sits down across from him, her eyes thoughtful.

  “So… what are we going to do for her?” she asks quietly. “Do you really want to keep her?”

  Markus stares into his cup for a moment before taking a slow sip.

  “Maybe. I mean… if we find someone—a family who really cares, who wants to raise her—then no, we shouldn’t stand in the way.”

  He pauses, letting the steam curl between them.

  “But…”

  His gaze drifts toward the living room, where Sally sleeps under the blanket. He exhales long and quiet.

  “I never really thought about being a parent,” he admits. “But it might be… kinda nice.”

  Liddle nods slowly, following his gaze to the couch. Her expression softens as she watches the little girl breathing evenly at last.

  “She can stay here,” Liddle says. “But… I don’t know much about being a mom. And my mother isn’t exactly the best example.”

  She looks down, rubbing her arm.

  “The best I’ve got is… don’t throw your child away into another dimension.”

  Markus smiles softly, then reaches across the table and takes her hand.

  “You’d be a great mother,” he says. “If I had to choose someone to be there for my child… I’d want it to be you.”

  Liddle blinks at him, then gives the smallest, most genuine smile. She leans across the table and hugs him, and Markus taps her forehead as she pulls him close.

  They don’t need to say much more. The decision is made—quiet, simple, and strong.

  They will keep Sally.

  Later, Sally wakes up, blinking as she pokes at the couch cushions and looks around, still unsure if any of this is real.

  The scent of warm food drifts in from the kitchen—sweet, buttery, and faintly cinnamon.

  “Oh, Sally! I’m glad you’re up,” Markus calls from across the room. “We just finished making breakfast. How are you feeling?”

  “I feel okay…” she says softly. “But I miss my parents. If they were here… they—”

  She stops herself, lips trembling as she steps into the dining area.

  On the table is a colorful spread of breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, pancakes stacked high with syrup, golden slices of French toast dusted with sugar, and a bright fruit salad glistening in a glass bowl. A carton of milk and a jug of orange juice sit nearby, still sweating from the cold.

  “We didn’t know what you liked,” Liddle says gently, “so we made a few different things. We’ll get a better feel over time.”

  Sally nods quietly and takes a bit of everything, carefully arranging food on her plate. She asks for a glass of orange juice, and Markus pours it for her with a soft smile.

  But the moment Sally takes a bite of the French toast, her eyes well up.

  “It’s just like Mama used to make,” she whispers, her voice catching.

  Tears spill down her cheeks—silent, sudden.

  Markus reaches over, steady and warm, and rests a hand on her shoulder.

  “What were they like?” he asks gently.

  Sally’s gaze drops to her plate. “They were gentle and kind,” she says, her voice trembling. “Even when we got into fights, they’d still tuck me in at night. We’d play board games, and… they’d let me win.”

  Her lips quiver. “And when I cried… they’d hold me until all my tears were gone.”

  “Sounds like you had a great relationship with your parents,” Markus says softly. He pauses, then adds, “Mine were in the military. They were helping during a hurricane when they… didn’t make it.”

  He looks down for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

  “I miss them too. I remember we’d always go see the newest superhero movies when they came out. And at home, we’d run around shooting dart guns at each other like we were saving the world.”

  A faint smile touches his lips. “I still think about those days.”

  He exhales, steady but quiet.

  “I know we can never replace your parents. But if you need a place, we’ll try to make this feel like home.”

  Sally can’t stop the tears. She throws her arms around him in a sudden hug.

  “Sweet thing,” Markus murmurs, wrapping her close.

  After finishing her food, Sally lets out a tired yawn and wanders back to the couch. She curls up beneath the blanket, and within moments, she’s asleep.

  “She must’ve been exhausted,” Liddle says softly. “I couldn’t imagine trying to sleep in broken glass… If I’d had even a little more than that, I think I would’ve given up.”

  Markus nods, his eyes lingering on Sally as he brushes a hand gently through her hair.

  “Yeah… it’s nice to see her relaxing. Once the world settles a bit more, we’ll get a proper bedroom set up for her.”

  He leans down, whispering, “Good night,” before turning toward the staircase.

  “Maybe I should get some rest too.”

  Liddle moves beside him and smiles. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

  She carefully carries him up the stairs and into bed, cradling his weight with practiced ease. Once he’s settled under the covers, she gives him a look.

  “Good. You’re finally resting,” she teases.

  Markus lifts the blanket and makes a space beside him. “You joining me?”

  “You’re always so thoughtful,” she says with a soft smile, slipping in next to him.

  They wrap their arms around each other—close, quiet—as Markus finally lets his body relax and drifts into sleep.

  And just like that, a broken world begins to feel a little more whole.

  Mahoishi! Writing this story has honestly been a dream come true, and it means the world that so many of you checked it out and supported it along the way.

  Vol. 1: The Day Magic Found Me — I poured a lot into it, and I’m already working on Vol. 2: The Day You Put Your Faith in Me. Can’t say too much yet, but Markus and his new sword have some wild twists ahead.