“You made it. Both of you.”
“The monastery is gone.” Zrynok’s voice is rough from smoke inhalation. “Nothing left but ash and rubble.”
“Good.” She looks toward the distant glow. “Now the real work begins.”
The documents. The names. The patrons who funded the cult and the officials who protected it. The web of power that allowed this horror to exist for three hundred years.
Destroying the monastery is just the beginning.
But that’s a battle for another day. Right now, I have simpler needs.
I reach for Zrynok’s hand. Find it. Hold on.
“We should rest. A few hours, at least. Before we start the journey to the village.”
He nods. Doesn’t speak. Just pulls me close—wrapping his arm around my waist, pressing me against his side.
We settle against a tree at the clearing’s edge. I lean into his chest. Feel his heartbeat—steady despite everything—against my back.
Circe is with the other survivors, being tended by women who seem steadier than they should be. Tessa is resting, her pregnant belly rising and falling with each breath. Oben stands at the clearing’s edge, still staring at trees, still processing a freedom he hadn’t expected to survive to see.
We’ve saved them. All of them.
Not everyone—some were too broken to leave their cells, some had been transformed beyond saving, some died in the fighting or the flames. But we’ve saved enough. Given them a chance at something beyond the monastery’s walls.
That has to be enough.
Zrynok’s arms tighten around me. His breath is warm against my hair.
“You came back for me.” His voice rumbles through his chest.
“You were taking too long.”
“I was being thorough.”
“You were making me nervous.” I close my eyes. Let exhaustion finally claim me. “Don’t do it again.”
I feel his chest move with what might be a laugh.
“I’ll try not to need rescuing in the future.”
“See that you don’t.” I press closer. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Sleep comes quickly after that.
The monastery burns behind us. The future waits ahead.
And for the first time since I escaped these woods years ago, I’m not running from something.
I’m running toward it.
FORTY-NINE
ARWEN
We move at first light.
The Thornwood burns.
