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FORTY-TWO

CASSIAN

C assian woke to silence.

Not the Hollow's howling void. Not the agonized shriek of battle or the chaos of flame and shadow. Just… silence—soft, strange, and real.

His eyes fluttered open against the sunlight streaming through a high, stone-framed window. The scent of herbs and old smoke hung in the air. Sheets beneath him were linen, rough but clean. He was warm, though his skin still held the memory of frost and fire.

He blinked again, trying to move. His muscles protested like they’d been torn apart and stitched back together with lightning. Every breath felt too big, too sharp.

But he was breathing.

Alive.

A low creak split the quiet.

Cassian blinked groggily as the door groaned open and a shadow filled the doorway. It wasn’t the soft footfall of a healer or the measured grace of a courtier. It was heavy, tired, armored in a way only someone bone-deep done with bullshit could manage.

Toreen.

The old brute stepped inside like the room had insulted his mother.

Greying hair pulled into a rough knot, his scarred face was set in the same eternal scowl that had cowed green soldiers for decades.

The man hadn’t changed. Except for the layer of soot and battle-worn weariness that now clung to him like a second skin.

“About damn time,” Toreen muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m tired of babysitting your ass.”

Cassian tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Pain tore through his chest like a rusted blade. “How long?”

“A month,” Toreen said, voice gruff but not unkind. “Thirty-two days, to be exact. Not that I was counting or anything. Just stuck here. Babysitting.”

He said it like a curse, but didn’t move from the bedside.

Cassian coughed. “Seraphine asked you.”

Toreen rolled his eyes skyward. “Yeah. Said she didn’t trust anyone else to keep your stubborn ass breathing. Like that’s not a full-time job.”

A pause.

“She’s alive?” Cassian asked, voice barely a whisper.

Toreen’s expression softened by a hair’s breadth. “Alive. Fiery as ever. Busier than a tavern girl at war’s end.”

Relief crashed through Cassian’s ribs. He slumped back against the pillow, breath hitching. “She made it.”

“She didn’t just make it,” Toreen said, pulling a stool up to the bedside and settling into it with a grunt. “She won.”

Cassian blinked. “The Hollow—Mirael?”

“Gone,” Toreen said. “Seraphine tore her apart with that blade you two reforged. Closed the Veil with the same damn stroke. Don’t ask me how. I don’t touch gods-damned prophecy.”

Cassian exhaled slowly. “And the Hollowborn?”

“Most disintegrated when the rift sealed. Some are still out there… twisted things, scattered. We hunt them when we can.”

Cassian frowned. “And the Emperor?”

Toreen’s jaw twitched. “Watched the whole damn thing. Didn’t lift a finger. Vanished before the dust settled. Some say he saw the end coming and ran. Others think he was counting on it. But if he’s alive, he’s in hiding. And if he’s not…” A shrug. “No one’s mourning him.”

Cassian looked at him sharply.

“She told the Houses everything,” Toreen said, leaning back. “Vaela’s betrayal. Her father’s involvement. The manipulation. The sacrifices. She gave them names, places, details. Didn’t beg for justice. Demanded it.”

“And they listened?”

“Damn right they did. When the truth hit the wind, the people turned. House Drakar crumbled overnight. The Houses voted unanimously.”

“And Vaela?” Cassian asked, wary.

Toreen’s mouth went tight. “Alive. Unfortunately. She’s in the dungeons beneath the council court. Seraphine refused execution.”

Cassian blinked. “Why?”

“Because she’s trying to build something better,” Toreen grumbled. “And because she said death was too merciful for someone who sold the soul of the kingdom to shadow.”

Cassian stared at the ceiling, jaw tight with all he couldn’t say.

“She’s at court right now,” Toreen added. “First full council since the gates closed. The Houses are rebuilding. Some merged. Others dissolved. She’s at the center of it, whether she wants to be or not.”

“She’s being crowned?”

Toreen gave him a flat look. “Yeah. Though I wouldn’t say it to her face. She hates the word. But the Houses demanded it. She’s got more legitimacy than half the royal lines combined. Fire in her blood and war in her spine.”

Cassian chuckled softly, and regretted it instantly. “That sounds like her.”

“She's been running herself ragged, trying to keep everything from falling apart again.” Toreen stood with a groan. “And she still made time to sit with you every night. Until last night. First one she’s missed.”

Cassian felt something tighten in his chest.

“She thinks you’re not done yet,” Toreen added, walking to the door. “And if you prove her wrong, I’ll kick your ass out of that bed and into the next realm.”

Cassian snorted. “I’ll try not to die again.”

Toreen glanced back with a smirk. “Good. You’re terrible at it.” Then he was gone.

Cassian leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling, heart pounding too hard in his cracked chest.

She was alive. Still fighting. Still choosing him. And when the door creaked open again, and her fire whispered through the air like a promise… He smiled.

Because this wasn’t an ending.

This was where it all truly began.