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“Abbie!” I scream, and Gannon jumps at the feel of her hand in his hair as he lifts his head. Liam sags against Dustin, collapsing between his legs as he breathes heavily.

“I told you, brother, I wouldn’t let you lose her again,” Liam breathes heavily, catching his breath.

My chest warms as sparks of the bond flood me along with relief, and I lean against my King as Clarice releases Tyson, who crashes against his mother and father, crying and clutching them. Gannon crushes them against him as he holds on.

We have survived, yet our home has not, as I look around at what I have done. The destruction I have caused, and the carnage left behind. But we are alive, we are not dead, and that is what matters. The rest we can figure out.

“More than my life,” I breathe out in relief.

“More than my life,” everyone echoes in a chorus, repeating my words.

“More than my life,” Kyson whispers next to my ear.

Kyson’s hand finds mine; his touch is grounding, a reminder that this isn’t some nightmare that I truly destroyed this place.

“We need to go home,” I murmur, the words slicing through the quiet like a knife. “To Landeena.” Home—where all this began and where we must return to rebuild our lives.

Kyson nods, his gaze sweeping over the remnants of the castle. “First, we salvage what we can here. There’s much to be done,” he sighs heavily, looking around at our guards, who are already moving about the destruction, ensuring the hunters are dead and those that miraculously survived are taken care of.

The task is monumental. We mobilize swiftly, our people rallying despite their grief and shock at everything that has happened; they grieve the people we lost and their homes that are no more. The guards, once poised to protect, start digging through debris, salvaging pieces of our past. Every stone turned, and every item saved, feels like a small victory against the desolation of this place.

Clarice organizes a team to sift through the ruins for belongings and relics of the royal archives. These pieces of our history are more than mere objects; they are glimmers of a past that will inspire our future. The children help, too, their small hands picking up less dangerous pieces, their innocence a stark contrast to the surrounding destruction we now stand in.

As we work, I can’t help but feel the weight of every life affected by this catastrophe. The responsibility of my power becomes a tangible thing, heavy and overwhelming. Yet, as I watch our people come together, there is a budding sense of unity and strength. We are broken, yes, but not defeated.

In the midst of our efforts, a young guard approaches, a dusty book in his hands. “Your Majesty,” he bows slightly, offering the book to me. It’s an old ledger from the castle’s library, miraculously unscathed. I flip through the pages, barely recognizing the words that I still struggle to read.

“Anything else?” I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the sorrow eating at me. The guard nods, just as I hear Kyson gasp as he pulls out more and more books, the books Cedric gave me and the ones Kyson would read to me. “How in the world did these survive?” Kyson marvels.

By evening, the ground where the castle once stood is cleared of bodies and the most hazardous debris. We set up camp in the cleared area, the night sky open above us. The stars are particularly bright, their light burning brilliantly to the darkness of the past day.

Kyson and I stand together, watching our people settle. “We’ll rebuild, love. Everything.”

“I know, but I took their homes from them,” I murmur.

“No, you gave them a reason to hope and not to live fearing the hunters. Tomorrow, we will start the journey back to Landeena. We’ll rebuild there, where it all began. It’s time to bring your people home.”

“Our people,” I tell him as Trey wanders up the hill toward me, a plate of food in his hands.

Later that night, as I lie beside Kyson under the vast expanse of the night sky, I feel a mix of dread and excitement. Landeena awaits with its own set of challenges and ghosts. But for now, the quiet whispers of the night promise not just an end but a beginning. A new chapter. As I drift to sleep, the echoes of our past mingle with the dreams of what the future will be.

Chapter

Fifty-Two

LIAM

A couple of days later.

They say luck comes in threes, and I am beginning to believe that old superstition as I sift through the rubble. Brick after brick, rock after rock, and dust… Well, you get the picture. Anyway, I am knee-deep in shit! Not literal shit, but you know, kind of metaphorical … Aaah, nope! I am pretty sure that may have been an actual turd and not a rock that time. I toss it over my shoulder, hearing a grunt before nearly squealing with joy when I find my trusty apron.

I clutch it, making sure it is in one piece. It has a small burn hole, but never mind that, it adds character!

“Oh please, no. Of all the things to survive. That thing should have been the first to burn,” Dustin groans behind me. I narrow my eyes at him; what a vile thing to wish for! Does he not know how hard I worked to get it smelling like barbecued death and marinated skin jerky?

“That is not coming with us!” Dustin declares. That’s what he thinks!

“I think I might wear it when we get married one day,” I tell him, and he scrunches up his face.