Ten moon cycles later…

The burial site was high on a blue hill on Opina. The moss that covered it was an indigo blue, the color of night, and Eve thought that it was beautiful.

The trek up the hill was strenuous and long, but it overlooked a beautiful, picturesque valley, with a long, winding inlet flowing at the very base, leading out to a violet-colored sea.

Eve watched her mate take in the view, his expression unreadable.

Khiva saw her watching him and his gaze warmed, reaching out to squeeze her hip, before passing his hand over their sleeping child in the sling wrapped around her chest.

Pressing a kiss to Cwera’s forehead, Khiva took Eve’s hand and led her over to the marked graves.

Down at the base of the hill they’d just hiked up, Kavik and Dhrika waited for them, allowing Khiva time alone with his family. Later, they would join them.

Eve knew this was difficult for her mate. If her own father had had a grave, she would be a bawling mess right now. Even still, tears pooled in her eyes when she saw him looking down at the burial mounds, silent.

She placed the bundle of Opina wildflowers and plants they’d collected earlier that morning on top of both graves, arranging them and fanning them out, so they spread across the blue moss.

Khiva had brought something of his own and Eve watched as he placed the two firestones at the head of the burial sites, digging them into the moss so they would stay. Over time, the moss would grow around them and pull them deeper and deeper into the earth.

“It’s beautiful here,” Eve said softly, feeling Cwera begin to stir in the sling. “Peaceful.”

“I am thankful Dhrika gifted them this place,” Khiva said, tilting his head to look down at her, before his eyes slid to their baby.

Khiva’s eyes lit with pride, as they always did whenever he looked at their child. Cwera had been born only two months ago, after a long ten month gestation.

And just as Kxiwi predicted, she took after her father.

Khiva tugged her gently from the sling and her swirling green and blue eyes blinked open.

“Come, Cwera,” Khiva cooed in a soft tone. “Come meet your virku, whom you were named after.”

Eve’s heart thudded in her throat, feeling more tears pool in her eyes as she watched her mate place Cwera down near the moss of the mounded graves. It was a warm morning on Opina and the moss was soft under their toes.

“Virku,” he whispered to her, crouching down near Cwera, watching as their child reached out a clumsy, chubby hand to squeeze the moss.

A fierce love ran through her chest at the sight of them. Eve was constantly surprised by it whenever the feeling overcame her, because she’d never known such a fierce, all-consuming love existed.

Not until she’d met Khiva. Not until she’d birthed their child into the universe on a chilly, foggy morning on Dumera. It had rained that day, a natural rain, which she’d never experienced before and despite the pain of the birth, Eve had smiled.

Cwera’s skin was lighter than Khiva’s and she had a tuft of dark hair on her head, one of the only features she’d taken after her mother.

And Khiva was already proving to be a wonderful, attentive, doting father. Sometimes at night, Eve would wake to an empty bed and she’d search for him, only to find him in the second room they’d attached to their dwelling, watching over his daughter as she slept.

Khiva stood and let Cwera blink around at Opina and touch the moss. She was growing so quickly already and Eve would savor these moments, before they passed her by.

Khiva pulled Eve into an embrace and she looked up at him, her fingers resting on his chest, where she felt his heartbeat thrumming.

“How are you?” she asked softly.

Khiva put his forehead on hers for a brief moment and said, “I am…at peace.”

Eve nodded, happy to hear it.

“I am glad we came,” he continued. “I needed to see where they were buried, I needed to feel their presence, I needed to see Cwera and you here, I needed to know where they spent their final years of life. And I am glad and relieved that it was in this place, with Dhrika, who cared about them and loved them.”

Cwera gurgled happily on the moss, seeming fascinated by the feel of it in her fists, and Khiva turned to look down at their daughter, as did Eve.

“Death brings life,” he said softly.

Eve said, “Yes. It is the way of things. Even still, I wish they could have known her. I wish my father could have known her.”

Khiva pulled Eve down to sit, tugging her between his legs, her back to his chest. Eve’s gaze flicked from Cwera, to the graves, to the firestones, to the magnificent view in front of them, not knowing where to rest her eyes.

Eventually, they came to rest on the ring Khiva had given her, when they’d bound themselves together that beautiful night. His first firestone. The first of many.

Because firestones were in circulation once more and were in high demand. They could hardly keep up with the orders, which only drove up their prices. Khiva had somehow created a stronger firestone than the originals, one that lasted far beyond any fuel or crystal that came before. And Eve was proud of his accomplishments, proud of the success he and Kavik had found.

Bringing the firestones to his mother’s and brother’s graves was fitting. It was a symbol of rebirth, a reemergence of their culture, a new celebration of it. Khiva had told her that his mother would have wanted him to continue that tradition. And one day, Khiva would pass that tradition and legacy down to their own children, keeping Kerivu and the work of his ancestors and the memory of the Keriv’i who died that tragic day alive.

“Tell me something, leeldra,” Khiva whispered in her ear as she felt the peace he’d spoken of wash over her.

Eve smiled, squeezing his hand.

Then she told him, “This is only the beginning for us, Khiva.”