Not a whisper or a gust of corrupted wind.
Just Seraphine, kneeling beside Cassian again, her blade still humming, her hands trembling from where the last of the magic had scorched through her skin and soul.
Cassian’s lips parted.
A groan. A breath.
She collapsed beside him, head on his shoulder, the world still spinning but finally quiet.
The Hollow was sealed.
The Veil was mended.
But the war wasn’t done yet.
Not until she made sure he woke up. And when he did… they would finish this together.
Because fire and storm didn’t end with sacrifice. They began again. In love. In power. In truth.
Mirael would never touch him again.
Now, all that was left was her father…
FORTY-TWO
CASSIAN
Cassian 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.”
