36. Libby

In some ways, it's terrifying to be at peace. We've been here for almost a month now, but I still feel on edge most of the time.

Memories of our past lives have been slowly trickling back to us. I sometimes wake up screaming, unable to remember if I'm Libby, Maya, or Alana. Other times, I don't remember why it should matter. It feels more and more like I'm all of them, all the time, which I guess is what the tree said would happen.

Still, there were so many horrible deaths when we were so close to happiness. It makes it difficult for me to truly believe that we're safe here. That we're free.

This morning, I wake from another agonizing memory and see that Hyx is already awake and staring up at the ceiling. He's with me, but I know that his mind is galaxies and centuries away.

I snuggle closer to him. "Who were you this time?"

"Karvex," he replies. "I'm usually Karvex."

I yawn. "I was Maya in my dreams last night. She had the shittiest life out of all of them near the end, and there's a part of me that's still processing it. I think that's why I dream about her more than anyone else."

"I think I feel the worst about my life as Karvex the Reaper. I lost you twice in that one."

"Hey, I'm right here," I say, propping myself up on my elbow. "You never lost me. We always found each other in the end."

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my lips. His hands wander down as he deepens it, but we can't. Not now anyway.

Reluctantly, I break the kiss. "We have work to do, Hyx."

The Hivemind Tree had helped us build this house, but we still have to be the ones to maintain the place and work the land. As much as I love our little slice of paradise, it requires a lot of upkeep.

Pushing myself off him, I flash a cheeky grin. "Well, what are you waiting for, love? I have solar panels to repair, and you have a garden to weed."

He throws his head back and sighs. "Five more minutes?"

Giggling, I toss my pillow at him and get to my feet. "Last one to the kitchen does the dishes."

Before he can protest, I sprint out of the room. Even with a head start, Hyx quickly closes the gap, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me close to him. But still, I set foot in the kitchen first. "I win," I say breathlessly.

He kisses my neck, sending shivers of pleasure through me. "Only because I let you win."

I wriggle from his grasp and set up the food synthesizer that we recovered from the ship we first landed here on. Pancakes and scrambled Qurax eggs sound good. "Liar. You're just saying that because you're embarrassed that I beat you."

"You keep telling yourself that, babe."

Pressing the buttons on the synthesizer, I watch the food materialize. "Who cares? You still have to do the dishes."

He rolls his eyes but gratefully accepts his plate when I give it to him. "The things I do for love."

In all our lives, I don't think I've ever seen Hyx this relaxed. In my memories as Alana and Maya, his eyes are always darting about as he performs a mental threat assessment at every shadow. His muscles are always tense, coiled like a snake ready to strike. He's prepared for anything.

But here, he laughs and smiles easily. He's watchful but not wary.

Of course, there are days when I can tell he's recalled something painful. There are days when we're both overwhelmed by everything and everyone we've been. But those days are becoming fewer and further between.

I press a kiss to his cheek and grab my own food. The synthesizer stuff is rarely as good as food made by hand, but this meal hits the spot.

There's just something about Jwoon III that makes it feel like paradise. The air is sweeter and more fragrant. The temperature is always perfect. The songs of Qurox fill the trees in a perfect symphony. Our garden is abundant, and though we have to take care of ourselves, everything here feels like a kind of paradise.

We get to work for the day. While he tills the soil and plants the seedlings for our fruit trees, I'm on the roof checking the connections to our solar panels and repairing anything that might be damaged.

"Hey, Libby, come look at this," he calls out.

I climb down from the roof and join a shirtless Hyx at the back wall of our home. A red vine snakes up the wall, blooming in spectacular yellow and orange flowers.

A Parma Vine.

I want to reach out and touch it, but I know that would be a mistake. But still, tears well in my eyes. "I guess we're not the only survivors from a dead species, huh?"

"I thought we could replant it somewhere out of the way," he says, turning his back to me to don his thick gloves.

I gasp. Poking out of his shoulder blades are two shimmering gold nodules.

He snaps back up, his eyes full of concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Turn around," I say. He does as I ask, and I feel the two hard lumps beneath his skin. "Does this hurt?"

He shakes his head. "Does what hurt?" He turns around so I can see the worry on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I don't think. I.. I think they're your wings," I reply, touching the lumps once more.

Over the next few weeks, I'm proven right. Hyx at first only complains that his back is itchy, but the nodules grow larger until one day, I find a feather in our bed. They continue to grow into wings as his skin begins to change. Because Hyx's skin is already gold, it's subtle, but now, the color is deeper somehow. It makes his previous skin tone look more like a goldenrod yellow.

The process is fascinating, and I take note of every little development.

"Do you want to test them out?" I ask one day after I finish preening Hyx's feathers.

"Like fly?" he asks, turning his head to look at me.

I snort. "What else do you do with wings?" At this point, I've learned all I can about them while on the ground. They look big enough to hold his weight, so we might as well run an experiment.

He must see that determined glint in my eyes, because he sighs. "You're going to keep asking until I say yes, aren't you?"

"Yep!" I pull him to his feet, and we race outside like rowdy schoolchildren eager for recess.

"Okay, on the count of three. One… two… three!"

He flaps his wings. After a few tries, he manages to lift himself off the ground. And then he's flying. I watch him practice barrel rolls and flips in the air.

Suddenly, he swoops down and scoops me up. I cling to him, squawking in protest but secretly enjoying it.

After a few minutes, he comes back down to the ground, setting me back on my feet. His face is so enthusiastic, I have to laugh.

"It's like riding a hoverboard. You never forget," he boasts, giving me an energetic kiss.

I pull back after a moment to raise an eyebrow at him. "Meet me in the bedroom in twenty."

He presses another kiss to my lips. "Wouldn't miss it for anything."