A young man, barely nineteen, moves from tent to tent. He glances at the leaves and thinks that if he were home, they would have fallen from the trees by now. He pauses, letting his eyes wander, quietly taking in the foreign land he somehow came to call home.

  “I’ve seen you walk into my tent three times now,” a merchant says as the young man steps inside again.

  “Sorry. I’m just looking for something for my wife. I’ve been searching all over, but nothing feels right.” Markus studies the different fabrics laid out before him. “I was hoping to find something perfect. It’s been a rough year for both of us, so… I wanted to find something nice.” His thumb runs along the edge of his metal bracelet. “Sometimes I still don’t understand why she stays.”

  “Well, maybe women like a man who can kill a dragon,” the merchant says with a rough chuckle. “No need to overthink it. It’s hard to find a woman who doesn’t like jewelry. Mucevher over there should have something for you.”

  “Well… I may have found one,” Markus replies, glancing toward a green cloak hanging nearby. “She doesn’t usually go for anything flashy. She prefers things quiet.”

  “If that’s true, then just get her something and I’m sure she’ll love it. What’s the occasion?”

  “It’s her birthday. I was hoping to give her the best.” Markus walks over and lifts a plain green cloak with a hood. “I think this will work.”

  “You can’t be serious.” The merchant studies it for a moment, then pulls out a strip of golden trim. “Maybe with this, it could be something.”

  “I think that would be great.” Markus hands him twice the amount asked.

  The merchant raises a brow but accepts it. “I’ll have it finished in an hour.”

  “Great. I’ll be back.”

  When Markus leaves the tents, he starts thinking about what to get next. The hood isn’t enough. I need flowers. He paces back and forth, talking to himself, when he glances toward the fountain at the center of Serbest Liman and spots an old friend.

  Well… not a friend. An acquaintance.

  The man sits alone on a bench.

  “Well, well, well. Looks like you’ve taken to your new life in Serbest Liman,” Lemres says, tossing a Twinkie at him.

  Markus catches it, takes a bite, and settles back. “After the baby dragon was slain, things got really calm here.” He glances down at the cream filling inside the cake in his hand.

  “It was you who brought peace to this land. You should be proud of that.”

  “Still… did I have the right to?” Markus murmurs. “It was living. Doing its best. There wasn’t any malice in it. It was just sleeping.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t done what you did. Try to think of it like that.”

  Markus looks toward the fountain, watching the steady rhythm of the water as it falls.

  “So… how are things going on Earth?” Markus finally asks. “When I left, did I leave it to die?”

  “No, no. Humans are still around,” Lemres says. “We got people to retreat to Canada while the U.S. takes back Old York. They’ll be fine.”

  Markus reaches for his Mahoishi, but Lemres gently pushes his hand down.

  “I know you want to help. But if they see you back on Earth—if they see you—they might think a demon’s returned.”

  Markus opens his mouth, then stops. He can’t find an argument.

  “Besides,” Lemres adds lightly, “someone has to guard Liddle.”

  “Using Liddle to sideline me?” Markus says.

  Lemres laughs and presses a small pouch of cocoa powder into his hand. “I have to go. Why don’t you turn that into some hot chocolate?”

  A portal opens, and he steps through.

  A minute passes before Markus blinks and remembers what he’d been doing.

  “…Right. Flowers. Flowers.”

  He heads to the horticulturist in town—Professor Otlar. Markus looks on in awe at his garden.

  The garden stretches in every direction, thick with blossoms. Petals layer over petals until the ground itself seems painted. Reds lean into violets, yellows tangle with white, and the air smells so sweet it feels like breathing sunlight. Bees drift lazily between blooms, and even the breeze moves softly, as if afraid to disturb something sacred.

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  “Long time no see, my friend,” Professor Otlar says, watering the flowers.

  “It’s nice to see you too. Sorry to bother you—I was hoping to get a gift for my wife.”

  Markus glances down and notices them: Seytan flowers, dozens of them blooming in one place.

  “Isn’t it nice?” the professor says with a soft smile. “They started growing again after the dragon was defeated.”

  He carefully gathers a small bundle, places them into a vase, and hands it to Markus.

  “Thank you,” Markus says, already turning to go, the flowers cradled gently in his hands.

  He returns to the merchant he bought it from. The cloak shimmers in a deep green, like moss after rain, its gold trim catching the light in quiet flashes. It isn’t flashy—just warm, calm, and quietly beautiful. Just like her.

  “This is perfect,” Markus says, looking it over.

  “Glad you like it,” the merchant replies. “Now run along. Your wife’s waiting for you.”

  Markus nods and hurries off.

  As he hurries across town, a warm scent catches him—something that reminds him of cinnamon buns.

  Markus steps inside the building to investigate, wondering if whatever smells that good might be something Liddle would like.

  Inside, a group of men in plated armor and sword belts crowd the room. Some are clearly members of the guard; others look like adventurers for hire. No matter where they come from, they’ve all gathered here for the same reason: trays of sweets line the counters, from fruit pies to chocolate cakes.

  ““The wielder’s in the house,” Commander Komutan says, raising a glass of hot mocha. “What brings you here today?” His eyes drift to Markus’ cloak and the flowers in his hands.

  “Oh—it’s my wife’s birthday. I just wanted to make it nice. It’s our first one together, and after everything that’s happened…” Markus shrugs. “I smelled something wonderful, so I thought I’d stop in.”

  “That must be the tahinli ??rek that just came out of the oven,” the baker says, setting a tray onto the display.

  “That’s perfect. I’ll take three.” Markus is already placing coins on the counter. “Keep the change.”

  “Now if only my husband would do that for me once in a while,” she says, slipping the rolls into a bag and handing it over.

  “I’m sorry—I don’t have slayed-a-dragon money,” the commander replies dryly.

  Markus thanks them both before heading back toward his small, quiet house in the farmlands.

  “Hi, honey, I’m—”

  He doesn’t get to finish. A small demon barrels into him, arms wrapping tight around his middle.

  “I’m glad you’re home!”

  Markus nervously hands her the green cloak. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

  “It’s beautiful—”

  Before Liddle can kiss him, their energetic child comes running down the hall.

  “Daddy, Daddy, look!” Sally runs up and thrusts a crayon drawing toward him. “This is you fighting a lizard. It was supposed to be a lion, but I messed up.”

  “I love it, Sally. Hey, I got something from the bakery.”

  “You got bacon from the baconary?”

  “Not bacon.”

  Markus hands her one of the sweet spiral pastries and watches as she takes a bite.

  “This is so yummy! Thank you!” she says, already running back to her room.

  Markus then offers Liddle a tahinli ??rek.

  “Happy birthday, Liddle,” he says, gently holding her horns and pulling her closer.

  “This is nice. The way humans celebrate birthdays is… very different from how my family did,” she says, leaning into her husband and taking a small bite of the pastry.

  “How so?”

  “My parents would hit me once across the face for every year I hadn’t died for them.”

  Markus goes still, his arms tightening gently around her. “Well… that’s… good,” Markus says quietly. His jaw tightens before he forces the words out. “But maybe we try something different this year.”

  “Oh. I hear that in human cultures, I get to make a wish… and you have to make it come true.”

  “That’s not quite… you know what, I’m sure whatever you wish for will be fine.”

  “I want to be in your arms by the fireplace,” she says softly. “And kisses. Lots of kisses.”

  Markus stokes the fireplace until the flames glow warm and steady. When he lies down on the rug, Liddle pounces on him.

  “You’re mine now. Submit to my whims,” she teases, kissing him. Markus smiles and leans in.

  “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have married someone like you,” Liddle murmurs, resting her head against his neck, her horns brushing softly against his cheek. “I love you.”

  Markus looks into her glowing eyes, his heart skipping a beat. The light in them isn’t harsh or blinding. It’s warm. Steady. Calming.

  “I’m glad I can make you happy,” Markus says, gently cupping her cheek as they lie on the floor.

  “I’d be happier if I got more kisses. You slacker.

  ”Markus chuckles. “You’re going to be like that, huh?”

  “Go on,” she whispers, her voice playful. “Kiss the birthday girl.”

  Markus leans in and gives her a playful noogie right between her horns.

  “Hey!” Liddle protests, squirming.

  “What are you going to do about it?” Markus teases, slipping his hand into hers.

  Before she can answer, he leans closer and presses a soft kiss to her lips. They both burst into quiet laughter, their foreheads resting together for a moment as the giggles fade. Their eyes drift closed, and when they kiss again, it lingers, deeper and warmer, the kind that makes the world feel very far away.

  When Liddle finally pulls away, she rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes. Markus gently runs a hand along her side as she lazily kicks off his shoes, sending them thumping toward the door.

  “Now you’re not going anywhere,” she murmurs.

  “Didn’t plan on it.”

  Markus leans in to kiss her, but she doesn’t respond. She’s already asleep on his stomach.

  He reaches for his snack, but can’t quite grab it. He glances back down at his wife and lets his hand fall still.

  A lot of things have changed. But his love for her is one thing even magic can’t alter.