The reception was chaos in the best way.
Ben's blood bakery had outdone itself—tiered cakes in shades of red, hemoglobin hors d'oeuvres, and a punch bowl large enough for kelpies to swim in (several did).
Music filled the hall—a collaboration between human DJs and engkanto sound-weavers that had everyone dancing, regardless of species or shifting ability.
Glad and Ariel floated through the crowd, greeting everyone, accepting congratulations, occasionally stealing moments alone.
"Happy?" he asked during one such moment.
"Ridiculously so."
"Good. That's the goal."
The toasts were legendary.
Kim: "To Glad—who taught me that folklore isn't just stories. It's family."
Rigen: "To my Tita Glad—who went from tech support nightmare to international icon. I'm so proud of you."
Colene: "To the woman I accidentally made famous. Sorry not sorry."
Ben: "To the couple who prove love exists in all forms. Even dog forms."
Luningning: "To Glad and Ariel—may your centuries together be peaceful, prosperous, and occasionally ridiculous."
Mang Berting: "To the Manananggal I tried to hunt. I'm glad I failed."
And finally, a toast from Anino's statue—or rather, from the warm breeze that surrounded it whenever Glad was happy.
"The cat approves," she whispered.
"He always did."
As midnight approached, Glad and Ariel slipped away.
They flew over Dumaguete together, hand in hand (paw in hand? however it worked), watching the city sparkle below.
"This is it," Glad said. "Our life. Our future."
"Scared?"
"Terrified. But also excited."
"Same." He squeezed her hand. "Together, though."
"Together."
They flew toward the moon, leaving the chaos behind.
Tomorrow, there would be more challenges. More adventures. More viral moments.
But tonight?
Tonight was theirs.