Epilogue
The first rays of morning filtered through the blinds, slicing across the living room floor in warm streaks of gold.
Landon sat at the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, a mug of coffee cooling between his hands.
His brothers were finally stirring—Braydon first, then Colt—groaning softly as they blinked against the light.
The apartment still smelled faintly of healing herbs and burnt incense from the night before.
It was comforting in its own strange way.
“Morning,” Landon said, voice low and rough from too little sleep.
Braydon sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Feels like I got trampled by a bear.” He paused, grimacing. “Or maybe three.”
Colt chuckled quietly, though it turned into a wince. “You’re not wrong. You good?”
Landon nodded, though the exhaustion still dragged at his bones. “Yeah. Better than we should be.”
There was a long beat of silence before Colt asked the question hanging between them. “How did it end?”
Landon took a breath, then told them. He told them about the rooftop battle, about Brielle’s lioness, about the light that had torn through the night sky.
About how Caleb had fallen and how the coven had held their ground until dawn.
When he finished, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside.
“Ursula?” Braydon asked quietly.
Landon’s throat tightened. “She’s ... recovering. The magic hit her hard. She’s alive, but she’s still hurt.”
Colt’s hands clenched into fists, his jaw working. “We’re not giving up.”
Braydon’s gaze hardened, that familiar spark of defiance igniting. “No damn way. She’s ours, Landon. Whatever it takes.”
Landon’s chest swelled with pride at the fire in their eyes.
“I agree,” he said firmly. “That’s why we’re moving into this building.
I have my sins to apologize for, and to make my mistake up to her.
We fight for her—our mate. Every step, every breath.
” He leaned back, finally allowing a hint of a smile. “And we start with a tattoo.”
Colt’s head tilted. “A tattoo?”
“Yeah.” Landon’s grin grew, the first true one in days. “Something that ties us to her. A symbol of what we’re fighting for. We’ll ask her to design it. Ursula, she won’t be able to resist making it perfect.”
Braydon laughed softly. “That’s sneaky, even for you.”
“Not sneaky,” Landon said, standing to refill his mug. “Strategic. It’s an excuse to see her, talk to her, get under her skin until she can’t push us away anymore.”
Colt arched a brow, the corner of his mouth curving. “So, the plan is emotional manipulation with art and charm?”
“Exactly.”
They shared a look, the kind that spoke of shared purpose and brotherly solidarity.
The kind that had gotten them through too many battles to count.
Landon knew they were all thinking the same thing—Ursula wasn’t easy to win.
She was fire and ice, independence wrapped in a spell and a glare that could level a room.
But she was also theirs, whether she admitted it yet or not.
“She’s going to fight us,” Braydon said after a moment.
“She’ll try,” Colt agreed. “But I believe that she’s tired of fighting alone. We’ll remind her she doesn’t have to anymore.”
Landon smiled at that, warmth spreading through his chest. “Good. Because I’m done waiting for fate to decide. We’re writing our own story from here.”
The brothers sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their coffee, listening to the quiet hum of morning life outside the window. The world felt different today—calmer, hopeful. The shadows that had loomed over them for months seemed lighter somehow.
“Do you think she’ll say yes?” Colt asked eventually.
Landon shrugged, though his eyes glinted with certainty. “Eventually. But I’m not asking for a yes today. Today we just show up. We start small—help her clean, bring her food, be there. Then we tell her about the tattoo.”
Braydon grinned. “And then we convince her she belongs with us.”
Landon’s voice softened. “She already does. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
He stood, setting his mug on the counter and looking toward the window where the sun climbed higher.
The light hit the faint scar on his arm—the mark of his bond with his brothers, the one that had carried them through hell and back.
It wasn’t glowing yet, not like the others’ had, but he knew that when Ursula finally joined them, it would burn gold. Just like Brielle’s.
“Come on,” he said finally. “We’ve got plans to make. And maybe find a decent breakfast before we do.”
Colt chuckled. “Coffee isn’t breakfast?”
“Not when we’re trying to impress a witch who can read our blood pressure from across the room.”
Landon grabbed his jacket, the others following suit. As they stepped into the hallway, the air seemed lighter, the world brighter than it had been in days. For the first time in a long time, hope didn’t feel like a lie.
They were going to fight for her. Not with fists or magic, but with persistence, laughter, and ink.
And when the time came, they’d wear her design on their skin as proof that they were hers.
All three of them.
Together.
****
Sleep had finally claimed her after what felt like an endless night of pain and magic burnout. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of protective wards that still glowed faintly along the walls. For the first time in days, Ursula’s body stopped aching—and then the dream came.
She was standing in a vast field of silver light, the air thick with moonfire and mist. The Moon Goddess appeared before her, radiant and calm, her long hair flowing like liquid starlight. The power rolling off her made Ursula’s knees tremble.
“Child,” the Goddess said softly, her voice both distant and intimate, like a whisper inside Ursula’s bones. “It’s almost over.”
Ursula frowned. “Over? What is?”
The Goddess’s silver eyes met hers. “Everything. The war, the balance, the line between what is light and what is shadow. You have always been the strongest of them all, Ursula. Strong enough to heal the world ... or destroy it.”
A chill slid down Ursula’s spine. “Destroy it? I don’t want that. I’m not—”
“You could be,” the Goddess interrupted gently. “You could turn to the dark side and be the harbinger of all things bad. The choice is still yours.”
Ursula’s pulse quickened. “Then tell me how to stop it. How to stop whatever’s coming.”
The Goddess tilted her head, her expression almost sorrowful. “There are three more Council members left. You have to kill them.”
Ursula’s breath hitched. “Kill them? But—how? Who are they?”
The Goddess’s lips curved in a faint, cryptic smile. “From the beginning.”
“What does that mean?” Ursula demanded, stepping closer, but the silver mist began to rise, swallowing the Goddess’s form. “Wait—what does that mean?!”
The Moon Goddess’s final words echoed like thunder and silk all at once. “From the beginning, child. Only then can the end be rewritten.”
The light flared—and vanished.
Ursula jolted awake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed. Her sheets were damp with sweat, her heart racing like she’d run miles. The moonlight streaming through the window cast long shadows across the room, and for a moment, she swore she still smelled starlight.
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, whispering to herself, “What the hell did that mean?”
The End
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