Alex

"Lyra! Alex!" Hearing familiar voices we turned, all four of us, gasping.

Lyra gasped before I could even process the sight. "Mom... Dad?"

I saw her trembling, but not from fear. It was like the weight of everything—the loss, the uncertainty, the years of searching—finally gave way. And before she could even step forward, I grabbed her arm.

"Wait. Are you sure?" I whispered.

Her eyes locked with mine, a mixture of disbelief and relief flickering in her gaze. But she didn't need to answer. The tears welling up in her eyes did it for her.

I knew they were our parents. There was no mistaking the warmth in their eyes or the way they moved, even after everything they'd been through. It was them.

I took a step forward, my hand trembling as I reached out. Lyra followed closely behind, the air around us thick with emotions we'd long buried. Our parents were here, but everything else—everything we had gone through—rushed in like a flood.

"Mom? Dad?" I called again, my voice breaking this time.

They both stepped forward in sync. It was surreal—like nothing had changed. Mom's face, pale from years of survival, softened as she wrapped her arms around Lyra. I could hear the muffled sobs of joy coming from her. Dad's strong hands gripped mine, pulling me into an embrace that felt like home again, as if the years had never passed.

"Lyra... Alex... We thought we'd never see you again," my dad's voice cracked, and I could hear the rawness in it, the pain of the lost years.

"We didn't stop looking for you," Mom added, tears streaming down her face, but there was no shame in it. This wasn't just a reunion; it was salvation, for all of us.

For a moment, none of us spoke. There was nothing left to say. Words couldn't fill the space between us. But there was a peace in it. A quiet, perfect understanding. We had been scattered, but now we were whole again.

And we weren't done yet. The world had been saved, but now, we could truly go home. And the home I was most eager to return to was Grandpa Bill's.

The time that followed was a blur. There was no time to sit in the happiness of our reunion for long. After the shock wore off, we realized the fight wasn't over. We couldn't just go back to the past. We had to push forward, to rebuild.

We followed the call of the crystal, the pull leading us to the sacred place where the embodiment of Mother Nature herself had made her presence known. There, she had spoken to us, offering her power to heal the Earth and restore what had been lost. But this was not just her gift to us. It was a gift for the entire world.

We had stopped the apocalypse. The skies were clearing, the earth beginning to heal, and the creatures that had once ravaged the land had settled back into the wild, leaving the world a little bit safer, a little bit more whole.

And now it was time to bring our parents home.

Time passed.

We made our way back, carrying with us not only the memories of everything we had faced but the weight of the responsibility we had yet to fulfill: to rebuild, to restore, to reclaim the lives we had lost.

We took our parents to Grandpa Bill's—Lyra's and my first true home. The journey back was full of quiet conversation, laughter, and shared memories that had been hidden for so long. Even in the stillness, we knew something new was waiting for us.

When we arrived at Grandpa Bill's, it felt like stepping into the past—but with a future we could finally believe in. Grandpa Bill greeted us with his usual warmth, his weathered face breaking into a broad smile as he saw our parents.

"Alex. Lyra." Grandpa's voice broke the silence, his eyes gleaming with relief. "It's been too long, hasn't it?"

We didn't speak immediately. There was no need. It was enough to simply be together, to feel the weight of everything we'd fought for, and the even greater weight of the healing yet to come.

Mom and Dad settled into the small house as best as they could. They tried to resume normalcy, but it was obvious—this world was no longer the one they had known. But we were here. Together.

And we could begin to rebuild it.

Lyra stood at the front door, her gaze drifting to the horizon. The sun was setting behind the distant hills, casting a soft glow over the landscape. The world had healed, but we hadn't finished our work. The lands were recovering, but we still had to restore the bonds that had been broken, rebuild the relationships that had been shattered by time and tragedy.

We had survived. And now we would live.

We gathered that evening around the firepit, our small family now complete. It wasn't much—just the four of us and Grandpa Bill, sitting in the quiet stillness of the world as it began to heal.

In the distance, I could hear the sounds of the others who had come together. This was our new world. A world born of struggle, of sacrifice, of rebirth.

And as I looked at my parents, at Lyra, and at Grandpa Bill, I knew we weren't done yet.

We would rebuild. Together.

The future was ours to shape.

A future that was still being written.