The second time we make love, she’s on top, setting the pace, learning her own power. The sight of her moving above me, head thrown back in pleasure, is something I’ll carry forever.
Afterward, as we lie wrapped in each other with moonlight streaming through the windows, I understand what we fought for. Not just breaking curses or defeating enemies. We fought for the chance to have moments exactly this—quiet evenings and shared meals and the freedom to choose what comes next.
"What do we do tomorrow?" she asks sleepily.
"Whatever we want." I tighten my arms around her. "That’s the beauty of freedom—we get to decide."
She makes a sound of contentment, already drifting toward sleep. "I choose this. Every day, I choose this."
"So do I." I press a kiss to her forehead.
TWENTY
RHEA
Morning arrives with the scent of coffee brewing and the sound of Krath moving around the kitchen with careful deliberation. I lie in bed for a moment longer, savoring the novelty of waking without immediate danger, of hearing domestic sounds instead of the scrape of bone on stone.
Three days. We’ve had three days of peace in this cottage, learning each other in ways impossible during our desperate flight. Three days of cooking meals and tending the garden and making love without urgency or fear.
But I know we can’t stay here forever, no matter how tempting the isolation.
I find Krath in the kitchen, shirtless despite the morning chill, stirring something that smells of cinnamon and honey. The scars across his back catch the early light—permanent reminders of our final battle.
"You’re up early." I move to wrap my arms around him from behind, resting my cheek against the warmth of his shoulder.
"Couldn’t sleep." He covers my hands with one of his. "Keep thinking about what comes next."
"Me too." I press a kiss to his shoulder blade, feeling him shiver. "We can’t hide here forever, can we?"
"No." He turns in my arms, his expression serious. "Much as I’d like to. But there will be consequences for what we did. Questions that need answering."
He’s right. The magical explosion that destroyed the abbey would have been felt for miles. The sudden death of every necromantic construct the Marshal controlled would have sent ripples through the supernatural community.
"Then we face it." I rise on my toes to kiss him properly, tasting coffee and honey. "But first, breakfast. Confronting the world is easier on a full stomach."
We eat in companionable silence, both lost in thoughts of what awaits us. After we’ve cleaned up and dressed in travel clothes, we stand at the door, neither quite ready to take the first step.
"Whatever happens," Krath takes my hand, "we stand side by side."
"Not one unit, but two people choosing partnership," I clarify, and something shifts in his expression—appreciation for the distinction.
The walk back toward civilization reveals the explosion’s impact immediately. Where the cursed abbey once stood, new life has taken root. Young trees push through earth that had been barren, their leaves bright green with impossible vitality. Wildflowers bloom in profusion, their colors almost aggressive in their cheerfulness.
The mountain itself has changed shape. Where before it loomed with sharp, threatening peaks, now its contours are gentler, rounded.
"It’s beautiful." I stop to stare at the transformation. "All that stolen life force—it’s returned to the cycle, but changed."
"Everything’s changed." His voice carries a note I can’t quite identify. "Including us."
He’s right. I can feel it in the way magic responds to my will now. No longer do I need components or complex gestures—the power answers to intention alone.
When we reach the first village, we discover time passed differently. The innkeeper—an older woman with sharp eyes—tells us it’s been five weeks since the abbey’s destruction, though it felt like only days in my childhood home.
"Thought the whole mountain was coming down that night," she says, studying us with undisguised curiosity. "Felt like the world was ending. And then—nothing. Just silence and new growth where there should’ve been dead ground."
We don’t offer details, just pay for a room and information. The news she shares is both encouraging and concerning. Other necromancers across the region lost their power overnight. Several cursed artifacts became inert. But there’s also fear—people don’t understand what happened.
"They’re saying a powerful witch and her orc companion destroyed the abbey." The innkeeper clearly hopes we’ll confirm or deny. "Some say they were heroes. Others claim they unleashed forces that could have destroyed us all."
