Epilogue
Selene
The Cistern existed apart from the city above, marked only by the light of the glow-stones and the steady cadence of water in the deep tunnels.
I stood at the head of the long stone table in the central atrium.
It had been three days since the fall of Highspire. Three days since we vanished.
The main hall had become a command centre. The stone surface before me was covered in maps taken from the City Archives—blueprints of the gas lines, the sewer grid, and the electrical tunnels.
Dane stood beside me, fully recovered. He moved a chess piece—a black rook—across the map of Highspire. He wore a thick wool jumper Goran had found for him, the sleeves rolled up.
Movement drew my eye to the archways lining the atrium.
Aelira and Una emerged from the archway at the far end of the atrium, bringing the scent of old paper and medicinal herbs from the library and infirmary. Aelira carried a stack of translated texts; Una wiped her hands on a cloth, her expression focused.
From the heavy iron door on the left—the entrance to the armoury and training room—the twins appeared. Torvin and Karys moved in sync, carrying weapons they had honed to a razor edge. The blades gleamed in the low light, ready for the fight ahead.
They looked battered. They looked tired. They were fugitives living in a hole in the ground while the city above celebrated their “defeat.”
But they didn’t look broken.
Footsteps sounded on the stone floor behind me.
I turned. Riven stepped from the sleeping quarters. He wore black tactical gear—utilitarian and fitted for war. The gear made him look sharper, erasing the “Consultant” he used to play.
He came to stand beside me at the table, looking down at the gathered team.
“Korenth Vhail has the city,” Riven said quietly, his voice echoing slightly in the cavern. “He has the money. He has the media. And he has four entities he pulled through the Veil. We do not know their limits, so we must assume they have none.”
“Let him have them,” I said.
I looked down at Dane, who looked up and nodded—a silent confirmation. Readiness was still a distant goal, but our resolve was absolute. We would prepare for what was coming.
Goran loomed from the shadows near the entrance, the primordial guardian of a lost world. He looked up at Riven with pride, the kind that didn’t need words.
“They think they’ve won,” Riven continued, his gaze sweeping over the group. “They think they have driven us into the ground.”
“Let them believe that,” Dane said, a dark glint in his amber eyes. “It makes them sloppy.”
“Highspire claims the light,” Goran rumbled, his voice carrying through the stone. “But the roots of this city are deep. And we know the dark better than they ever will.”
I touched the hilt of the iron dagger at my belt. I thought of Eamon, his magic passing through me as his last goodbye. I thought of Liora, writing her warnings in a children’s book.
They had spent their lives hiding. They had spent their lives afraid.
I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Korenth wants a war,” I said.
Riven covered my hand with his. The silver in his eyes flared—cold, bright, and unyielding.
“Then we will be ready.”
I looked back at the team. At the circle of allies standing in the amber light. Old friends and new. We shared the same future now.
We were done running.
We were ready to fight back.