Epilogue
Sticking close to the remaining walls, he hovers where the shadows swallow and conceal him.
They swirl around his body, whispering things he forces himself to ignore.
He flexes his hand; the skin is still bubbled and charred from the burns he accidentally gave himself.
Spreading his fingers, he holds back a hiss, internally cursing his slow healing, before looking back out over the wreckage.
Things had not quite gone to plan. His burnt hand the first of many things he didn’t account for. This irks him. The plan was thrown together too quickly, an opportunity they didn’t want to let pass them. They should have listened to his objections.
He watches as the first survivor enters the great hall. Even if his power wasn’t already depleted, he wouldn’t attack her now. He doesn’t have a death wish. Everyone underestimates her. He will never make that mistake.
He watches as she uncovers one of the many dead. Watches the way recognition crosses her features. Then horror. The second survivor, the Dragon-Fae, attempts to comfort her but she refuses his help.
The third survivor enters. She begins weeping. She’s weak, crumbling where the first survivor stays solid.
The golden eyes of the first survivor look beyond the Fae she is holding in embrace, and he swears she spots him. Even through the shadows. Even through the nothingness. Those golden eyes meet his and he’s taken back to the first time.
She broke him once already. He will never allow her to do it again. Instead, he will destroy her.