The moment Celeste stepped back onto the streets of Alas, a mix of nostalgia and uncertainty settled in her chest. The place felt familiar, yet changed, as if a lifetime had passed since she'd last been here. In some ways, it had. She was no longer the quiet girl who blended into the background. She was Celeste, the Eclipse Child, the one who had ended a war, whose name was spoken with awe and fear across the Luminary world. And now she was back where it all began.
Beside her, Jase walked easily, his golden eyes scanning the streets. He looked relaxed, but she felt the tension in his grip on her hand, his fingers curled protectively around hers, as if afraid to let go. "Strange being back?" he murmured, his voice low and close.
Celeste exhaled softly. "Yeah… It almost doesn't feel real."
The town looked the same, with quaint cafés and students drifting in and out of bookstores, their laughter carried on the wind. But the way people looked at her was different. She felt different. She wasn't just another student anymore. She was a legend walking among them.
"People are staring," Jase muttered, amusement flickering in his voice.
Celeste glanced around and realized he was right. Conversations had halted, students pausing mid-step, their eyes widening as they whispered among themselves.
Some were looking at her. But most? Most were staring at him. Celeste sighed, already knowing why. "It's probably you they're looking at."
Jase smirked, his fingers tightening just slightly around hers, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he wasn't letting go. "I do have that effect."
Celeste rolled her eyes, though she couldn't deny the truth. Jase had always stood out. Even before everything changed, before war and bloodshed marked them both, before their choices reshaped who they were, he had drawn attention. But now it was different. His golden gaze held a new intensity, a quiet power beneath the surface, sharp and unyielding. The boy she once knew had become something more. And yet he stood beside her, holding her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, something that once would have been unthinkable.
*****
The next day, when Celeste stepped onto the grounds of Alas Academy, a heavy silence met them, thick and suffocating, pressing in on her like an unseen force. Her heart pounded. She had expected the stares and whispers, but not their weight, the way they clung to her skin like static, every gaze carrying something unspoken.
Jase leaned in close, his breath warm against her temple, his voice teasing but just low enough that only she could hear. "Should I flex a little? Maybe summon some celestial light? Keep the mystery alive?"
Celeste elbowed him lightly, her lips twitching despite the tension coiling in her chest. "Jase, no."
He chuckled, but there was something softer in his golden eyes as his fingers laced through hers, grounding her in the way only he could. "I'm with you. That's all that matters."
And just like that, she could breathe again.
Still, the whispers swirled around them, an undercurrent that followed their every step.
"They're back."
"Is it true she's one of them?"
"Did she really destroy all the Abyssals?"
Celeste inhaled deeply, forcing herself to keep walking, to hold her head high. She wasn't just a student anymore. There was no going back.
Inside their lecture hall, they slipped into their usual seats, falling into the fragile sense of routine that still remained. The familiarity of the space should have been comforting, but the weight of every glance, every hushed conversation, told her that this place was no longer the same. She was no longer the same.
And then, just as she was steadying herself, a familiar presence dropped into the seat beside her.
Amy.
"You two really know how to make an entrance," Amy teased, tossing her bag onto the desk with a smirk, her sharp eyes flicking between them like she was sizing them up. There was something reassuring in her casualness, the way she acted as if nothing had changed, as if Celeste and Jase were just two students returning from an extended break rather than legends stepping back into a world that now saw them differently.
Lucas followed close behind, sliding into his seat with an easy grin, slinging an arm over the back of Jase's chair like they hadn't just survived a war, like things could still be normal. "Didn't think you guys would actually come back."
Jase smirked, ever the picture of effortless confidence as he leaned back in his chair. "Couldn't let you have all the fun."
Just like that, the weight on Celeste's chest eased, if only a little. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing. Despite everything, the stares, the whispers, and how the world had changed, this place and these people still felt like home.
And for the first time in a long time… she actually wanted to be here.
*****
That evening, Celeste and Jase walked through the quiet streets of Alas. The town felt slower at night, more intimate, as if the world had paused for them. The air was cool and faintly scented with rain, but none of it mattered. Not the past, not the uncertain future. Only the moment. Only him.
Jase's hand stayed in hers, warm and steady, his fingers fitting easily between hers. His thumb traced slow circles against her palm, a small, absent motion that sent warmth through her chest. It was strange how something so simple could undo her. For so long, his touch had felt distant and forbidden, something she'd only imagined, wondering what it would mean if she reached for him and he didn't pull away.
Now?
Now it was real. His hand was in hers, solid and steady, no longer imagined or fleeting. When she tightened her grip and felt his fingers squeeze back, she realized this was what she had been fighting for all along.
And still, uncertainty lingered. "Do you think we can actually have a normal life?" she asked softly, her voice barely louder than the wind.
Jase stopped. Celeste turned, confused, until she saw the look in his eyes. His golden gaze, so sharp in battle, had softened into something else entirely as it traced her face, as if afraid she might disappear. The weight of it sent a shiver through her.
He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. "I don't care what happens next," he murmured, his voice low and warm, carrying something deeper that set her heart racing. His fingers slid along her jaw, lifting her chin slightly as he searched her eyes, taking her in. "All I know is that I'm with you."
Her breath caught, her grip tightening around his hand. She wanted to believe it could be that simple, that despite the war and everything they carried, this could be enough.
Jase exhaled, then slowly lifted her hand to his lips.
And yet doubt lingered, a quiet whisper in her chest she couldn't silence. The world had never made room for people like them, shaped by war and loss. Could they really return to something as fragile as normalcy, to quiet mornings and simple days without the shadow of everything they had endured?
"Do you think we can actually have a normal life?" she asked softly, her voice barely louder than the whisper of the wind.
Jase stopped walking.
Celeste turned to him, her brows knitting together at his sudden stillness, confusion flickering through her. But then—then she saw the way he was looking at her. His golden eyes, sharp and unyielding in battle, had softened into something entirely different, something that stripped away the weight of their past and left only the raw, unspoken truth between them. He wasn't just looking at her—he was memorizing her, drinking her in as if she might disappear if he blinked too long.
The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, something deep and undeniable unraveling inside her.
Slowly, he reached for her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering a moment too long, the warmth of his touch setting fire to her skin. "I don't care what happens next," he murmured, his voice low, warm, but threaded with something deeper—something that sent her heart into a wild, unsteady rhythm.
His fingers trailed down her jaw, tilting her chin up just slightly, his eyes searching hers as if committing this moment to memory, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her breath caught, the way her golden-silver eyes reflected the moonlight like liquid fire. There was no hesitation in his expression, no doubt, no uncertainty. There was only her.
"All I know is that I'm with you."
Celeste's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around his, grounding herself in the weight of his words and the steady certainty in his voice. She wanted to believe it could be that simple—that despite the war, the scars, and the weight of their pasts, this could be enough. That they could carve out something real after everything that had tried to break them.
Jase exhaled, his eyes never leaving hers. Slowly, he lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a tender kiss against her knuckles.
The warmth of his mouth was gentle, soft enough to steal her breath, sending an electric current from her knuckles through her ribs. He lingered, breathing feather-light against her skin, savoring the moment, unwilling to let it pass too quickly. Something inside her, tightly locked away, shattered. This wasn't fleeting. This wasn't a dream or a stolen moment at the edge of battle. This was real. He was here.
Celeste swallowed hard, her pulse hammering, her mind caught between what she had always wanted and the terrifying truth of it finally being hers. When he pulled away, he didn't step back or break the moment. His golden eyes stayed locked on hers, unwavering and intense, seeing her in a way that left nothing hidden. His voice dropped, low and intimate, each word slow and deliberate, like a vow spoken into the night.
"No matter what comes next," he murmured, each syllable steeped in quiet conviction, "we'll face it together."
Celeste's heart pounded, her breath catching in her throat. How many times had she carried the weight of everything alone? How many times had she believed that standing alone was the only way to survive? And yet, here he was, unwavering, unshaken, offering something she hadn't allowed herself to hope for. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe.