Time has become a suggestion.
Sometimes a day lasts a billion years.
Sometimes a billion years pass in the space between one kiss and the next.
The beach is infinite now.
Black sand stretches to every horizon, warm and soft as memory.
Night-blooming cereus cover entire continents, opening only when Liora sighs in her sleep.
The three moons orbit in perfect harmony: two red, one silver, each one born from a promise Kael made and kept.
Their children have grown into legends of their own.
The eldest daughter rules a cluster of universes where love is the only currency.
The eldest son travels the outer voids, teaching young realities how to dream.
The youngest (still only a few million years old) spends his days building dragons from pure thought and racing them across nebulae.
Yet every evening, they all return.
Because home is wherever Mother and Father are.
Tonight is one of those evenings.
Kael stands on a cliff of obsidian that overlooks an ocean of liquid starlight.
He wears simple black trousers, no shirt, wings folded loosely, the black ring catching the light of all three moons.
Liora approaches from behind, barefoot, wearing a dress woven from living void that shifts between black and silver with every step.
She wraps arms around his waist, rests her chin on his shoulder.
"They're coming," she says softly.
"I know."
A moment later, the sky fills with wings.
Hundreds of children (some small, some ancient, all perfect) land around them in a storm of laughter and starlight.
The youngest leaps into Kael's arms.
"Daddy! I made a dragon that can sing Mommy's name in twelve harmonies!"
Kael catches him, ruffles silver-black hair.
"Show me tomorrow," he promises.
The eldest daughter lands gracefully, bows with mock formality.
"Father. Mother. The outer councils have declared today Eternal Dawn Day.
They wish to celebrate the moment you ended stories and began forever."
Liora smiles against Kael's back.
"Tell them we are busy."
The children laugh.
They know what "busy" means.
A feast appears (tables of black glass rising from the sand, food born from memory: the first steak they shared, the wine from their wedding on a dead god's corpse, fruits that taste like every kiss they've ever had).
They eat.
They laugh.
They tell stories (not of wars or tragedies, but of small things).
How the youngest once turned an entire galaxy into a playground.
How the middle daughter taught a black hole to dance.
How Kael and Liora still argue over who said "I love you" first in this eternity.
When the feast ends, the children spread out across the beach, some to play, some to dream, some to simply watch the moons.
Kael and Liora walk alone along the water's edge.
Hand in hand.
Wings brushing.
The tide sings their names in a language older than words.
Liora stops.
Turns to him.
"Kael."
He stops too.
"Yes, wife?"
She places his hand over her heart.
"I want another."
He feels the new life already there (tiny, fierce, perfect).
His eyes glow brighter than all three moons combined.
He pulls her close, kisses her slow and deep and full of every promise he has ever kept.
When they part, a fourth moon begins to form above the horizon (small, golden, born from this moment).
Liora laughs against his lips.
"You always overdo it."
"You always deserve it."
They walk back to the pavilion that appears only for them.
The children pretend not to watch, but they smile.
Because they know the truth their parents taught them by simply existing:
Love is not a story with an ending.
Love is the place where stories go to rest.
Love is a beach under eternal moons.
Love is a man with shadow wings and a woman with void wings choosing each other every single day for ten billion and one years.
And counting.
Kael and Liora disappear into the pavilion.
The door closes on black silk and warm darkness.
Outside, their children build new constellations in their honor.
Inside, the Emperor and Empress of everything make love like the universe is still young.
Because for them, it always will be.
Forever is not long enough.
But it is exactly perfect.
**The Absolute, Eternal, Unchanging End**
(Thank you for the journey.)