“And she chose yours.” The words are barely a whisper now, his air running out, his life following. “How... how did you...”
“She chose herself.” Nasyra’s voice comes from behind me, steady and fierce. “I chose to break free. I chose to fight alongside the people who earned my loyalty. And I chose him—not because he claimed me, not because some ancient magic demanded it, but because he spent centuries keeping a garden alive for a woman he thought he’d lost forever.”
Lakhu’s eyes find mine. In them, I see hatred and grief and something that might almost be respect. “You’ll never... never get my father. He’s stronger than... than I ever...”
“Then we’ll deal with him when the time comes.” I meet his gaze without flinching. “But you? You’re done.”
I snap his neck.
The body falls. The shadow magic dissipates. And for the first time in centuries, the prince who orchestrated so much suffering is finally, irrevocably dead.
The chamber falls silent.
Lakhu’s body lies at my feet, his beautiful face frozen in death, his centuries of planning ending in a single broken moment. Behind him, Queen Brinja remains suspended in shadow-glass—preserved, peaceful, forever waiting for a resurrection that will never come.
I should feel something. Guilt, maybe, for the mother I unintentionally killed. Satisfaction for the son I just destroyed. Grief for all the lives lost because of choices made in darkness and pain.
But all I feel is Nasyra’s hand in mine. Her fire still wrapped around my shadows. Her presence beside me, solid and warm and real.
She’s here. After death. After everything. She’s here.
“It’s over.” Her voice is quiet, almost wondering.
“For now.” I turn to face her, drinking in the sight of her. Blood on her face, fire in her eyes, the woman I loved andlost and somehow got back. “Lakhu mentioned his father. King Ulrik. He’s still out there. He created the curse. He’ll come for us eventually.”
“Then we’ll face him too.” She reaches up to touch my face, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, her thumb brushing against the corner of my mouth. “But not tonight. Tonight, we won.”
“We won.” The words feel foreign. I’ve spent so long expecting to lose—expecting to fail, to be too late, to watch everything I love slip through my fingers—that victory feels almost impossible to believe.
But she’s here. Alive. Standing beside me in the ruins of our enemy’s dreams, her fire and my shadows intertwined in ways that feel permanent. Essential. Right.
“The curse,” I say quietly, flexing my hand, watching the shadows respond. “It feels different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“I don’t know yet.” I meet her gaze. “It’s not trying to consume me anymore. It’s... waiting. Like it’s found something it wants to protect instead of destroy.”
Her smile is soft, tender in a way that makes my chest ache. “Maybe that’s what it needed all along. Something to protect. Someone to fight for.”
“Maybe.” I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her, pressing my forehead to hers. “I love you. I should have said it before now. I should have said it a thousand times since you came back. I love you.”
“I know.” She rises on her toes to brush her lips against mine, the kiss gentle despite everything we’ve just survived. “I love you too. The woman I was loved you. The woman I am now loves you even more. Come on.” She tugs at my hand, pulling me toward the exit. “The others will be worried. And I want to see Selene—make sure she’s really okay.”
I follow her. Of course, I follow her. I’d follow her anywhere—through death, through darkness, through grief and into whatever future we can build together.
Some debts can never be repaid. But some cycles can finally be broken.
Nasyra’s hand is warm in mine as we walk toward the future. Toward whatever comes next. Together.
TWENTY-NINE
NASYRA
The stronghold burns behind us.
Flames climb the black stone walls, devouring centuries of shadow magic, reducing Lakhu’s fortress to ash and memory. The Brotherhood dragons circle overhead, ensuring no one escapes, while the rest of us begin the long flight home.
I ride on Zyphon’s back, pressed against his obsidian scales, my cheek resting between his wings. His heartbeat pulses steady beneath my palm—alive, alive, alive. The rhythm soothes something in my chest that’s been tight with fear since the moment I left him to face Lakhu alone.
