But he could not stop. He fired again—bolt after bolt of desperate raw force, each one less controlled than the last and still meeting the same fate of shattering against the armor of Alina’s will. The stone underfoot trembled. The air thickened and crackled. The others scattered, hugging the walls, eyes wide as if watching a gods’ duel.
Alina moved, every gesture effortless, every motion clean and spare. She bent Maven’s lightning into harmless arcs, sending it up into the ceiling, dissipating it with a flick of her wrist. Her eyesglowed, truly glowed, so vivid it outshone the flashes of Maven’s power.
With every failed attack, Maven grew more desperate. He shrieked invective, called her monster and witch and worse, but the words only made her sad. She could feel his Gift burning out, the candle reaching the end of its wick.
She advanced until they were face to face, Maven’s lips peeled back, the veins in his temple bulging with the effort. He raised his hand for one last strike.
She caught his wrist, her grip gentle but immovable.
He sagged, then, the fight gone. The darkness around him flickered and died.
Alina looked at him, and for a brief moment, she saw not the enemy, but the boy he had once been—a child left behind by a world that had no time for the weak, a boy who learned too soon that trust was just another word for failure.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and let him go.
He crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
Alina turned and looked at Kael. The brute finally let go of him. In a few quick strides he was before her and he crashed into her, hugging her so tight she could hardly draw breath, for everyone to see. Her arms were slung around him, hugging back just as tightly. He lifted her from the floor, his face buried in the crook of her neck, and held her tight for a long moment. His chest was heaving as he set her down again and pulled back enough to look at her. He searched her eyes, her face for she didn’t know what, and eventually, finally, a smile appeared on his lips, transforming his whole face.
“You’re back,” he said, barely more than a whisper.
“I am back,” she said. “And I’m here to stay.”
Slowly, he brought his hands to her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. His eyes glowed golden, as he leaned in and kissed her. It was a kiss to end all kisses, slow, so intense, so full of love and longing and pain and hope. Nothing could ever feel like this. Nothing could ever take this away from her.
Around them, people started to move. Prisoners were led away, survivors hugged and laughed, somewhere Finn joked about somebody’s hair.
Alina and Kael stood among the chaos, in a world of their own, oblivious to the shouts and laughter and dust swirling around them and remained like this for a long while.
Afterward, the survivors came. One by one, or in shivering, shell-shocked pairs, they found their way to the mess hall, blinking at the wreckage and at Alina, who stood by Kael’s side.
The first to approach was Finn, grinning through the blood. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he wheezed, holding his side. “You outdid us all, Princess.” He slung one arm around her shoulders and placed a loud smack on her cheek. “I’m glad you’re back again. The Caves were miserable without your royal touch.”
Alina smiled, the old title warm now, not a weapon. “Thank you, Finn.”
He nodded, then walked over to the wall, slid down to sit on the floor, put his head on his knees and instantly fell asleep.
Next came Marcus, silent but with respect that needed no words. He knelt beside Maven—curled on his side, staring at nothing—and placed a hand on the broken man’s shoulder. Notin hatred, but in acknowledgment: you fought, you lost, but you mattered.
Others followed. Some just nodded, some wept, some merely stared at Alina as if she were a miracle or a ghost. Not all of them approached. Some watched her wearily or even suspiciously. Let them. They would know the truth, eventually. From room to room, from corridor to corridor, word spread through the Caves that the fighting had stopped, that Maven’s coup had failed, that order was returning, however fragile.
Kael stayed near, never more than a step from her side, giving orders and organizing the aftermath. After taking care of the most urgent tasks, he turned to her, eyes shining.
He took her hand, kissed it and brought it to his chest. “I thought you were lost to us. To me.” His voice was low and rough, sending a shiver through her that tingled along her spine.
She looked at him, and she remembered the girl he’d first met—unsure, hungry for affection, desperate to belong. But that wasn’t her anymore. In her was the strength of the whole valley, of every lesson and pain and wonder it had given her.
“I had to find myself,” she said, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of his face, and he briefly closed his eyes, undone by her touch. Her heart went out to him. “And once I had done that, the way back to you was the only option.”
He squeezed her hand, his grip tight, almost painful, but she welcomed the feeling.
“You saved us,” Kael whispered, pulling her close. “You saved me.”
She shook her head. “We saved each other. That’swhat matters.”
He kissed her again, not caring who watched, this time not soft and tender, but hard and urgent, a collision of two lives broken and remade. For a long moment, nothing else existed but the taste of blood and tears and hope.
When they finally broke apart, Kael rested his forehead against hers. “What now?”
