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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄, although it throbs against her bruised ribs. Skin that once felt poisoned by Rhimme's malicious ice thaws with the warmth of a black shadowed wing draped around her to shield her from evil's threats. Still, the pain that rakes her bones embeds itself so deep inside of her that not even in her dreams can she rest. She might've been asleep before, but now? Now she's wide awake.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow lies next to her, long gone in his slumber, his head sharing the same pillow. A sheet strews across their tangled legs. When she rolls over to study his features, she finds everything about him to be serene. There's a slight content curve to his lips—slightly parted as he takes in steady tranquil breaths. With a gentle fingertip, she traces the slope of his nose, then kisses a scabbed cut just above his brow. Just one look at him has her insides brimming with magic, the hum beneath her skin responding to the close proximity of her mate.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She scratches behind his ear, a tired growl rumbling from his throat as he instinctively squeezes her waist and pulls her flush against him. He nestles his face into her shoulder, still fast asleep in his dreams.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen combs her fingers through his hair as she inspects the room around her. She's still in the sanctum with the lingering evidence of war. The polished floors are still split, and there's crumbling to several of the pillars. Yet, there's no blood or bones laying around collecting dust. In the angelic sunlight, the place seems nothing like the nightmare from before.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You nearly killed yourself," a woman's voice says.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen turns her head to see a woman with velvet black hair, the long strands tucked behind her ancient pointed ears. There's a wound mark on her neck where Rhimme's collar once choked her, and her eyes no longer appear with blight. They're an almond brown, a shade so sweet that they almost glow against her dark complexion.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What happened?" Elowen asks.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Rhimme happened," she quips, taking a step towards Elowen. "I can't explain in detail what occurred in the moments that followed after you lit the flame. I'm sure the winged one can do that. When the others and I arrived at the sanctum, he had already fled."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He's gone?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He is." She comes close enough and extends her hand. "I'm Selah. Some of the others and I watched over you after Mariel bandaged you up."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen stops giving Morrow his ear scratches and shakes Selah's hand. Selah quickly backs away, almost afraid to get too close to her once more.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It, um, it's not as good as what Mariel can do, but you had such terrible wounds, especially the ones from your wings. Fortunately, being so near to the eternal flame can heal others quicker than being away. You should be as good as new in a matter of days."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"And Thorn?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm assuming he's the other man who helped you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen hums. "Is he alright?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Selah's brows tense, and those almond eyes trail away from Elowen's silver stare. She waits for Selah to say something, say anything. The last she recalls of him is his desperate fight against Rhimme, even when he appeared to be knocking at death's door. The last words of him still echo in her thoughts, one valiant 'fuck you' and then a burst of his light.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Selah fiddles with her knuckles. "He's not dead."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A wave of relief rushes through her. "I really thought that he might..."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Er, well, not dead yet. He's not what I would call 'well'."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen throws the sheet from her legs, pushing herself up, despite her body's orders to curl back into Morrow's alluring security. She looks down at herself, noticing she's in a new pair of clothes—a clean camisole that hardly covers the wound wrappings around her torso and shoulders and a pair of loose trousers. Beside her, Morrow lies in a pair of clean slacks and nothing else. Still asleep, although his blight-free hand searches for her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen takes Morrow's hand, squeezing it tight as he continues to snore away his woes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The blight is gone," Elowen whispers.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Everything will start reversing in time once the light reaches the edges of Aelethia. He's lucky his infection was still in the early stages. It hadn't affected his mind or heart yet." She giggles, then tilts her head as she studies the were-wyng. "You know, he's quite possessive. It took a lot of convincing to get him to let go of you so I could dress your wounds. Even then, the constant growling and interrogating questions were enough to keep me alert."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"That sounds like my guy."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He may have been a pain, but he cares for you. A lot."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's no secret that Morrow loves her. It's a vow he'll make again and again until his last breath. She knows that back in Tabrien, she'll hear those words every morning when she rises and every night as she falls asleep. A life awaits them in this new era of light, one so unknown that it scares her. All she's known is fleeing for her life, and now there's no need to double check over her shoulder for danger. He's there to protect her, to provide, to love.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Yet, there's an irk under her skin that she can't shake. Thorn had warned her constantly that Rhimme cannot perish without a celestial ancient, whatever that may mean. Neither of them fit the description. The darkness they despise is still out there, waiting to strike again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎With one quick kiss to Morrow's forehead, Elowen stands to her feet, although she almost topples into Selah.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Selah grips her tight. "Let's hope your balance will return soon. It must be different walking around without wings to weigh you down."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The words act like a knife to her heart. Her wings are a part of her that she doesn't want to think about right now, silencing the mourning before it can begin.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Thorn?" Elowen says instead, keeping her mind on track.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Thorn isn't far, only on the other side of the eternal flame's brazier. Most of his body is tucked under a sheet, but he's not alone. One ancient woman with long tendrils of lavender hair dabs away the sweat and blood caked on his brow, while another woman with the sharpest ears she's ever seen sews a gruesome open wound shut. Scattered around his body are blood-soiled towelettes and napkins. Elowen swallows down the bile rising in her throat. There's certainly more wounds beneath that sheet.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It should've been me," Elowen's voice breaks mid-sentence.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Selah shakes her head furiously. "No, you saved Aelethia from Rhimme, but even heroes have to pay the cost. Thorn here... he took Rhimme's darkness by himself, even when his own light was torn from him. It's a miracle that he's still breathing."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She can't even look at him without tears swelling in her eyes, a sorrow that gets cut short by the worried call of her mate. "Sparrow!"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She rushes back to him, finding him already on his feet, wide alert with disheveled hair. The moment his gaze finds her, his shoulders sink down and claws unclench from his fists. When she looks at him now, she sees the other side of a barrier that was once shrouded in darkness. They're both alive. Somehow. Some way. And living.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow closes the distance and cups her cheeks, searching her eyes for any signs of further pain. She gives him a reassuring smile, one that coerces a matching one from his oh-so kissable lips.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"We did it," Elowen breathes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You did it." His smile is short-lived, soon conquered by frown lines of concern. "Fuck, I thought I'd lost you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm right here."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎For him, it must feel like the world unravels for him, stitch by stitch, falling apart and losing everyone before he can repair it. He'd just gained a mate, something that all were long to have. Although the torch was relit, the hours that followed must have been his dreariest.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You went dead cold after you lit the flame," he confesses, dropping his voice low. "For a moment, I thought about running to fucking Scaerus if you never woke up." He would've sold everything in his soul to the witches if she'd truly left this world. "But sparrow..."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His voice trails as he leans in, pressing his forehead against her own. If Thorn was slain by Rhimme and she was knocked out cold, then there's only one person in this room that knows what happened in the moments after the torch was lit.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm not going anywhere," she whispers.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Rhimme isn't done with Aelethia. Not yet. He can still get what he fucking wants without it. Reigning over Aelethia just would've sped up his plans."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What did he tell you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow swallows and lifts his head, scanning the sanctum. There's a few ancient women murmuring behind the pillars, some fetching more towels and cloths for Thorn's battered body while others are just there for the gossip. For now, Selah has left them alone to talk to themselves.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He told me that I could be of use to him with my curses. Said that's how he found his wife," Morrow's expression tightens in confusion. "I don't know where the fuck he's heading or what this even means, but Rhimme's already twelve steps ahead of us. He's got a son. Apparently he's got him already doing the dirty work for him."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Did he say anything else? Is he going to come back for the flame?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I don't know," those meadowed irises find the light lapping at the edge of the brazier, illuminating the hell that unfolded within. "But I have to go and find Ronyn, or go back to Tabrien. Hell knows what Rhimme did to them."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I just can't leave here," Elowen breathes. "Someone needs to guard the flame, and what about Thorn?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She brushes her thumb over the cut on his brow as Morrow dips his head to her touch, nuzzling into her palms. As an alpha, he's already been away from his pack for too long, especially when he left them in a state so dismal that it felt like he might lose his province. When she taps into his mind, she's met with a cacophony of longing to go back home, to be with her, to locate his best friend.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I can guard it," Elowen spins around to meet Selah's almond eyes. A faint blush glows on her cheeks, her features lowering bashfully. "I mean, it would be a crime to separate you two after all you've been through. Thorn can't leave, not in his condition. He needs the help of the flame if he survives."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen begins to shake her head. Selah looks so malnourished from being one of Rhimme's prisoners, far from being capable of guarding something so sacred. Besides, she probably doesn't hold the same type of magic to relight the flame if everything goes wrong. Yet, she stops herself. Elowen never looked the part either, and yet she stands, spared by the light for bringing it back to the doom and gloom of the lands.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow's voice enters her thoughts. Let her do it.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Is she strong enough?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She won't be alone. Thorn will be here until he's fully recovered. Then we'll talk.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen takes another strong look at Selah before giving in. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She nods. "Pailon has always been my home, and so many of us have no intent on leaving it behind. There were signs of Rhimme's darkness before he struck before. We know we can no longer ignore what we see. If something goes wrong we'll surely send someone your way."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her inner creature gnaws inside of her, aching to go home, a place that exists far from here. Although her magic thrives in these ancient lands, the Acropolis of Pailon isn't where she truly belongs. Even with the light flickering to the ends of the kingdom, there's a life awaiting for her, and she can't pause it with fears of Rhimme coming back. He'll already haunt her for the rest of her life knowing that the wicked never truly rests.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎This flame is her victory. Her mate is a reward she'll revel in forever. For now, she'll live the way she wants to live.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She takes one look at Morrow, her always, her today and tomorrow. She's ready to be his equal.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Let's go home," she whispers with a kiss to his cheek. "We have a wolf pack waiting for us."

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as much as i adore this book, i'm ready for it to be done. speaking of being done, the last chapter and epilogue will be published on JANUARY 31ST, 2025. it'll be whenever i have time after i get home from work lol.

thank you all for being so supportive through this past year and a half! i'll give a sappier speech next week.

ivy <3