He remained upright at the far edge of the broken circle, head tilted back, eyes fixed on the sky. Light washed over him in waves, reflecting in his gaze, and I realized with a sudden, aching clarity that he wasn’t watching destruction.
He was watchingrelease.
The last remnants of Malore’s legacy tore free from the world, screaming silently as they unraveled, fed to nothing, claimed by no one.
And finally…
Everything collapsed.
The wind dropped, and the lights went out as the ground stilled.
I hit my knees hard, arms still wrapped around Keegan as the last echo of magic drained away like a receding tide. The mushrooms dimmed completely, their glow fading to a soft, dormant sheen.
The Wilds went utterly, impossibly quiet.
Silence fell, but it wasn’t the ominous kind. It was theafterkind.
Keegan’s breathing was loud in the stillness, each inhale steadying, real. He blinked slowly, disoriented, then focused on me, his hand lifting weakly to brush my cheek.
“I can breathe,” he whispered, wonder threading every syllable. “Maeve… I canbreathe. There’s no weight in my chest or pounding in my head.”
Tears slid down my face unchecked as I laughed softly, half-hysterical, half-reverent.
“You’re free,” I said, the words trembling. “It’s truly gone.”
I almost wanted to ask it as a question, but I could see it in his eyes.
He nodded, swallowing hard, pulling me into his chest as if to prove we were both still here.
I lifted my head then, heart hammering, scanning the clearing.
Gideon lay in a tangled heap near the mushrooms, chest rising and falling slowly. Alive. Unconscious. Human in a way I had never seen him before.
And my father still stood at the edge of the clearing, eyes fixed on the sky, his expression unreadable, reverent, utterly still.
The stars above had settled back into place.
The Wilds slept.
And for the first time since Malore’s Hunger Path had ever been named, the world rested without it, the silence held, and nothing chased us into it.
Chapter Seven
The world returned in bits and pieces.
First, the ground beneath my knees felt solid again, cool and damp with the breath of the Wilds. Next, sound crept back in, tentative at first with leaves stirring, and someone exhaling too loudly.
The night wrapped around us like a blanket. Keegan shifted beneath my hands, drawing another deep breath, then another, as if testing the limits of his lungs just to make sure the curse hadn’t been hiding somewhere small and spiteful. When he laughed, quiet, breathless, and somewhat stunned, it sounded like a man hearing his own voice for the first time.
And in a way that was precisely what had happened since the first moment Stonewick, Keegan, and my dad had been cursed. The difference was that it kept dragging on for Keegan and Gideon.
“It’s quiet,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied softly. “It really is.”
He pushed himself upright slowly, wincing more from exhaustion than pain, and squeezed my hand before letting go. The contact lingered anyway, warmth settling where his fingers had been, grounding me as I took in the clearing.
Stella reached us first, moving with uncharacteristic speed. Her shawl was askew, silver hair loose around her shoulders, eyes sharp and searching as she crouched in front of me.
