Epilogue: The Sun, the Moon, and Everything in Between
(Lyra's POV)
Prom had become a blur of gold light, laughter, and music that trembled through the floor. The air smelled like perfume, punch, and that strange electric sweetness that only came when everyone was too happy to care how loud they were.
I'd danced until my feet hurt. I'd laughed until my throat ached. And yet, there was one thing I couldn't ignore—Evan.
Every time I glanced up, he was there. Watching. Smiling that small, secret smile that made me forget what oxygen felt like.
But now, as the last slow song faded into something softer, he leaned close and whispered, "Come with me, Sol."
His voice wrapped around me like warmth. I didn't ask where. I just followed.
We slipped out through the side doors, the cool night air rushing against my skin. The balcony overlooked the school gardens, bathed in moonlight and dotted with tiny fairy lights. I could still hear the faint music echoing inside, but out here, it was quieter. Softer. Intimate.
Evan ran a hand through his golden hair, clearly nervous for once. His tux jacket was half unbuttoned, his tie slightly loose. He looked unfairly good, like a scene from a dream.
"You okay?" I asked, smiling at how uncharacteristically restless he looked.
He laughed under his breath. "Yeah. Just… trying not to screw this up."
That caught me off guard. "What do you mean?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "You ever wonder why I call you Sol?"
I blinked. "Yeah, actually. I never asked because you'd just smirk and change the topic."
His smile softened. "Because it means sun. In Latin."
My heart stuttered. "Sun?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Because that's what you are, Lyra. You light up everything. You walked into Saint Valley and made the halls feel warmer. You made me feel warmer. Before you, it was just… noise. Routine. Football, grades, pretending to be someone my dad wanted."
He looked down for a second, his voice quieter. "Without you, my world would still be dark."
I didn't even realize I was crying until he reached up and brushed a tear away with his thumb.
"Evan…"
"I'm not done," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I like you. No—" He exhaled, meeting my gaze with a small, fearless smile. "I love you. I love the way you talk with your hands when you're nervous. The way you scrunch your nose when you're sketching. The way you always try to fix everything, even when it's not your job to."
Tears slipped down my cheeks again, but this time, they weren't from sadness. "You're really saying this?"
He nodded, stepping closer until there was barely space between us. "Lyra Evadne Solnne," he whispered, his hands finding mine, "I'm asking you—will you let me take care of your heart, forever? Will you be my girlfriend?"
For a moment, the world just… stopped. The lights behind us blurred into gold halos, the night air thick with something soft and sacred. I could hear my pulse, fast and dizzy.
And then I laughed — through the tears, through the shaking — and nodded. "Yes. Yes, Evan Lucius Vale. Of course I will."
He smiled — that kind of smile that could unmake galaxies — before leaning down and kissing me.
It wasn't one of those movie-perfect kisses. It was hesitant, messy, warm. His hand cupped the side of my face, his thumb tracing over the corner of my jaw. My fingers tangled in the fabric of his jacket as if I was afraid he might disappear.
But he didn't. He pulled me closer, deeper, until it felt like the whole world had gone quiet.
When we finally broke apart, I couldn't stop smiling.
"I've wanted to do that for months," he admitted, breathless.
"I know," I teased softly. "You're not exactly subtle, Vale."
He chuckled, resting his forehead against mine. "Say it again."
"Say what?"
"That you're mine."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop grinning. "Fine. I'm yours, Evan."
His grin widened. "Good. Because I'm definitely yours."
The music from the gym swelled faintly again, and he pulled me into another dance — just us, under the stars. No noise, no crowd, no cameras. Just our hearts keeping time.
And for the first time in years, I didn't feel broken. I didn't feel like the girl with scars, or the new kid, or the survivor of something painful.
I just felt seen. Loved. Alive.
Maybe that's what first love really is — not perfect, not easy — but real.
As we swayed beneath the fairy lights, his hand firm around mine, I realized something I'd never dared to before:
Saint Valley wasn't the beginning of my story.
It was the place I finally found my sun.
☀️ End of Book One: The Pact Before Midnight ☀️
(There's a book 2)