Smoke still curled from the scorched earth as dawn broke over the shattered amphitheater.
Wren stood where the dais used to be, its stones now blackened rubble, its chains melted into the soil. Around her, the trees whispered with a kind of reverent silence, as if even the forest knew something ancient had ended here.
Or begun.
Cassian sat on a low wall of crumbled bone and stone, wrapping a bandage around his forearm. "You didn't burn the whole forest," he said quietly. "I was worried."
Wren didn't smile. But her voice was soft. "So was I."
Veylan emerged from the trees, his cloak torn, shadows curling around him sluggishly. The Thorned Bride's sigil had faded from his palm, leaving behind a faint, silvery scar.
"She's gone," he confirmed. "I felt her leave the land. Not in pain. Not in fear. Like… a song ending."
Wren closed her eyes. She still felt the last breath of the Thorned Bride echoing in her chest. Not a farewell. A handing over.
"What did she give you?" Cassian asked. "Really?"
Wren didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she crouched and pressed her hand to the ground. The soil beneath her fingers glowed faintly, golden cracks spidering out through the ash and char. Life returning. Slowly.
"I think," she said, "she gave me a choice."
Veylan looked at her sharply. "To do what?"
Wren stood. The fire was still in her. Still wild. But it didn't rage anymore—it pulsed steady, like a second heartbeat. She turned to face them both.
"To become more than what they made me."
Cassian rose, wincing as he tied off his bandage. "We stopped the Bone Circle. But this power… it won't go unnoticed."
"It already hasn't," Veylan murmured. "I saw it, Wren. In the Bride's vision. The world isn't just waking—it's watching. And the old powers aren't done."
Wren nodded slowly. "Then we don't hide."
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "What do we do?"
"We prepare," she said. "And we protect what's left."
She looked down at her hands—scarred, glowing, still trembling from the fire. Not with fear.
With purpose.
"This isn't just magic anymore," she said. "It's legacy. The world forgot the witches once ruled, that we healed and burned and remade things. But I remember now. All of it. And I won't let it vanish again."
Veylan stepped closer. "You'll need allies. A stronghold."
"A sanctuary," Cassian added. "Somewhere the old blood can gather. Safely."
Wren tilted her head. "You both sound like you've already thought this through."
Cassian smiled faintly. "Not really. I just don't plan on leaving your side."
Veylan met her gaze. "Nor do I."
She felt it again—that strange, aching warmth in her chest. Not just fire. Not just power. Love, braided with memory. With trust.
"I'll need you both," she said. "If I'm going to rebuild what they broke."
Cassian's smile widened. "Good. Because we're not going anywhere."
Behind them, the ruins crackled one last time—and from the ashes, a strange thing bloomed.
A single flower. Pale gold, its petals dusted with soot. A fireflower. Extinct for centuries.
Wren reached out and touched it. The stem bent toward her hand like it knew her.
She stood, straightened her shoulders, and looked out at the forest.
"I don't want a throne," she said. "But if I have to wear a crown…"
The fire shimmered faintly in her hair.
"…let it be made of ash."
They left the ruins by midday, moving in silence through a forest that no longer whispered threats but held its breath in reverence.
Birdsong had returned. Tentative, thin. The wind no longer hissed through the trees—it hummed, warm and strange, as if the woods themselves were waiting to see what Wren would do next.
No illusions followed them.
No ghosts.
They passed beneath ancient boughs, and even the bones hanging from the trees had stopped rattling.
The Bone Circle's reign had ended.
But Wren felt the weight of what remained with every step.
By dusk, they reached a rise that overlooked the charred path they'd taken days before. Smoke still curled from the distance behind them, but ahead—where the hills met the horizon—light shone gold and soft. A different kind of fire.
Wren sank onto a flat rock and stared out at the changing sky.
Cassian dropped beside her. His body still carried bruises, but his wolf's strength had returned. He leaned back on his hands, head tipped toward the stars. "You think it's really over?"
"No," she said. "But it's changed."
Veylan stayed standing, his eyes always scanning the dark. "The Circle is gone. But the world they broke is still broken. The kingdoms that fed them. The nobles who turned blind eyes."
Wren's fire flared softly in her palm. "Then we fix it. Piece by piece."
Cassian huffed. "Starting with what? We've got no army, no safe haven, no food except dried roots, and a price probably on all our heads."
"You forgot we've also got three changes of clothes and a haunted dagger that whispers when I try to sleep," Veylan added flatly.
Wren cracked a real smile. Just for a second. "I'm serious," she said. "We don't need a kingdom. We need a cause. And people who believe in it."
Cassian's gaze slid toward her. "And what would they be following?"
She met his eyes. "Me."
It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't even confidence.
It was a vow.
Cassian didn't argue.
Veylan's shadow twitched like a smile.
"Then we start with the witches still hiding," Wren said. "The covens in exile. The ones who never bent the knee to the Bone Circle."
"They won't all trust you," Veylan warned. "You carry the fire. And fire is feared."
"I know," Wren replied. "But maybe if I lead with flame and mercy—they'll follow."
Cassian's fingers brushed hers. "And what about us?" he asked. "Where do we fit in this new world you're building?"
Wren turned her hand over, lacing her fingers with his. "Wherever you want to be."
She looked to Veylan next.
He held her gaze, that guarded intensity never faltering. "I don't need a place," he said softly. "I just need a reason to keep fighting. And I found it in you."
Wren swallowed hard.
Cassian didn't let go of her hand. Neither did Veylan step away.
It was strange, this balance—this new gravity they shared. Not the chaos of before. Not the fear of choosing. But something fierce and real that bound them in the wake of fire.
"We'll need to move fast," Veylan said, breaking the moment. "Before word spreads. Before someone else claims what you've done as their own."
"I won't let them," Wren said.
Behind her, the wind picked up. Leaves danced around her shoulders like sparks.
Cassian stood. "Then let's go."
They didn't have horses. They didn't have banners.
But they had each other.
And the fire walked with them.