The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft silver glow across the valley. The trees whispered secrets to the wind, and the cool night wrapped the pack lands in a hush of calm. It was one of those rare, perfect nights — the kind that asked nothing more than to be lived and remembered.
Sienna lay on a blanket spread out across the hill behind their home, her head resting on Daemon's chest as his fingers lazily drew patterns along her arm. The stars stretched wide above them, endless and patient. Somewhere in the distance, wolves howled — not from sorrow, not from pain, but from peace.
"Do you remember when we used to fear the night?" Sienna murmured.
Daemon hummed. "Back when every shadow held a warning… every silence was a threat."
She tilted her head to look up at him. "And now?"
He smiled. "Now the night feels like home."
Sienna turned her gaze skyward again, watching as a streak of light cut across the stars. "A shooting star," she whispered.
"Make a wish," Daemon said, pulling her closer.
She closed her eyes for a brief second. "I already have everything I ever wished for," she replied.
Daemon chuckled. "Flatterer."
"No, really," she said, her voice soft but certain. "You. Our son. This life. There was a time I didn't think I deserved any of it."
Daemon's expression darkened slightly, but not with anger — with memory. "We both lived through storms," he said. "But look where we are now."
They sat in silence for a while, content just to listen — to the rustling of leaves, the crackling of a small fire beside them, and the occasional howl of a wolf pup from the packhouse. Their son had just shifted for the first time a few nights ago. His paws had been too big, his howl too small, but his pride had been larger than the moon.
"Did you ever think we'd raise a child in peace?" Sienna asked quietly.
Daemon turned his head, kissing her temple. "No. I thought we'd die with blades in our hands."
"But we didn't," she whispered. "We lived. We're still living."
He brushed a hand through her hair. "And we'll keep living. For him. For each other."
Sienna reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment. Daemon raised an eyebrow as she handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"Something your son wrote," she said with a soft smile. "He said it was 'for the moon.'"
Daemon unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the childish scrawl:
"Dear Moon,
Thank you for my mama and papa.
Thank you for not cursing me.
I promise to be good and protect the pack.
I love the stars. They remind me of mama's stories and papa's growl.
Please let everyone have sweet dreams tonight.
– Luca."
Daemon swallowed. "He's… thoughtful."
Sienna laughed gently. "He's us — only better."
Daemon folded the letter and tucked it into the pocket over his heart. "I'll keep this."
She nestled closer to him. "Promise me something?"
"Anything."
"When we're old and grey, and he's leading the pack… when the war stories fade, and this meadow becomes legend… promise you'll still watch the stars with me."
He didn't hesitate. "Every night."
They stayed like that for a long time. The stars wheeled above them, silent witnesses to a story that had started with blood and ended in light. They had been enemies once. Victims. Survivors. Now, they were simply a man and a woman in love — a mother and a father, dreaming of the future.
Sienna let out a breath. "You know what this feels like?"
"What?"
"A dream I never thought I could have. But somehow… it's real."
Daemon smiled, pulling her tighter against him. "Then don't wake up, Sienna. Just keep dreaming. I'll be here — always."
And above them, one more shooting star crossed the sky.
A quiet promise written in light.