Chapter 30
SERIS
Darkness greeted me first when I awoke, my eyelids too heavy to lift.
Not the oppressive, crushing darkness of the throne room under the Devourer’s influence, but something gentler. Ordinary. The kind of quiet that came from the simple absence of noise rather than dread.
Then I felt warmth.
Sunlight brushed my face, and a gentle breeze lifted the fatigue from my eyes.
Despite the comfort, I was in pain. It was dull, distant, muted.
I opened my eyes to find the work of healers all over my body.
A ceiling greeted me, stone vaulted high overhead, carved with decorative flourishes that spoke of wealth and permanence. Compared to the cell at Blackstone Keep, it felt as though I had been placed in an entirely different world.
The room around me was beautiful, but it bore the marks of chaos. Shattered windows let in morning light that painted everything gold. A feathered mattress cradled me, softer than anything I’d ever slept on. Clean bandages wrapped my shoulder where my hand should have been.
The phantom sensation of fingers I could no longer move made my stomach twist.
I pushed myself upright with my remaining hand. The world tilted briefly, then steadied. My body felt hollowed out, wrung dry of everything that had kept me standing during the battle.
But I was alive.
Somehow, impossibly, I was alive.
Across the room, a door stood closed. A pitcher of water waited on a small table, along with bread and fruit that looked fresh. Someone had been tending to me. Someone had cared enough to make sure I woke to comfort rather than chaos.
I stood. Swayed. Caught myself against the bedframe and waited for my legs to remember how to hold me upright. The floor felt strange beneath my bare feet.
How long had I been unconscious?
The balcony called to me. I had to see what remained.
I crossed the chamber slowly. Each step felt like relearning movement, my wounds speaking louder with every shift.
The city sprawled below, massive and broken.
Smoke still rose from buildings throughout the lower districts. Entire blocks were decimated. Roofs caved in. Walls blackened. Streets littered with debris. The scars of battle were fresh and raw, testament to how thoroughly the Devourer’s corruption had spread before we’d stopped it.
But people moved through those streets.
I could see them from this height, small figures picking through rubble, clearing pathways, carrying supplies, helping the wounded.
Living.
The gates stood open. No soldiers guarded them now. Just citizens coming and going freely, bringing aid from outside or carrying the injured to healers beyond the walls.
We’d won.
The thought should have brought relief. Instead, it brought a question that seized my chest like a fist.
Where was Daemon? Kael, Kane, and Zephyr?
I remembered Daemon holding me as my consciousness faded. I felt his heartbeat, his shadows trying to save me. Without words, he begged me to stay.
And I did.
But had he survived the aftermath? The curse had been killing him, accelerating with every use of his power, every moment he spent near mine.
What if stopping the Devourer hadn’t been enough?
What if breaking the binding had come too late?
Panic surged sharp and immediate. I had just survived an entity that had nearly destroyed the world. I had pushed it back through the Veil with precision that should have been impossible.
But the thought of Daemon dying while I slept was worse than anything I had faced in that throne room.
The door opened behind me.
I spun too fast. Lost my balance and caught myself against the balustrade with my remaining hand.
Daemon stepped through the doorway.
Alive.
Whole.
Different.
The deathly pallor that had haunted him for weeks was gone. He looked healthier than I had ever seen him. Color had returned to his cheeks. Strength moved through his body with ease. Every line of him spoke of recovery rather than decline.
Relief hit me so hard my knees buckled.
He crossed the distance between us in three strides and caught me before I could fall.
His arms wrapped around me carefully, mindful of my missing limb and the bandages still holding me together.
I buried my face against his chest and felt his heartbeat once more.
Strong. Steady. Alive. Then, something inside me finally broke.
I wasn’t crying. Instead, my whole body shook with the force of what I’d been holding back since my parents were taken from me. Since Vaelthorne was burned to the ground. Since I had faced my destiny.
"You're safe." Daemon’s voice rumbled against my ear. "The Devourer is gone, Seris. You sent it back. It’s over."
"The curse, "
"Broken." His hand came up to cradle the back of my head. "When the binding severed, when you pushed it through… everything ended. The corruption, the decay, all of it. I felt it lift."
I pulled back just enough to see his face. To confirm with my own eyes that he was telling the truth.
He smiled. Small. Tired. More genuine than anything I’d seen from him before. "You didn’t just save me. You saved everyone."
The words should have made me laugh. Should have brought joy. Instead, they brought a wave of exhaustion so profound I could barely stand.
"How long was I unconscious?"
"Two days." His thumb brushed my cheek. "The healers said you’d pushed yourself past every reasonable limit. You should have died from blood loss alone, before even accounting for the magical strain."
"But I didn’t."
"No." Something fierce entered his expression. "You didn’t. Because you’re the most stubborn, reckless, impossibly brave person I’ve ever met. Apparently, even death itself isn’t ready to receive you yet."
I huffed. Almost a laugh. "Flattery."
He smiled briefly, then his face sobered. "Seris, there are… people waiting. Outside. They want to see you. To thank you."
Dread curled in my stomach. "How many people?"
"Most of the city."
I stared at him. "What?"
"You saved them." Daemon’s hand slipped to my shoulder, steadying me. "When you banished the Devourer, every person in this capital woke up and realized what had been happening. What they’d been forced to do under its control. They know you’re the reason they’re still alive."
"That’s not, we had help. The resistance, your team, Kaelen, What happened to the Resistance?"
Memories of the doors closing behind us and the sight of Malzaun’s back flooded my mind.
"They suffered casualties, but most of them are all right.
The citizens know they helped. The Fae killed no civilians during the battle, even at the cost of their lives.
The citizens have received them with warm welcome, in their right minds.
" His voice gentled. "But you’re the one who walked into that throne room and faced down an entity that killed kings and ate cities. You’re the one who sent it back to the Void.
And now… they want to see the woman who gave them their lives back. "
The weight of it pressed down on me. All those people. All those expectations. The idea of standing before them, of being seen as some kind of savior when I had only ever known being viewed as the Wretch, was not only unfamiliar but overwhelming.
"I can’t."
"You can." Daemon’s conviction didn’t waver. "You already have. This is just… showing them you’re real."
He was right. I hated that he was right.
But I also remembered Vaelthorne. I remembered how my mother and Lyanna had fought to protect people who would never know her name. How the resistance had given their lives through the years.
They had all faced impossible odds. They had chosen to stand when surrender would have been easier.
I could do this one thing.
"All right." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Let’s go."
Daemon led me through corridors I didn’t recognize. The castle looked different in daylight. The place no longer felt like a monument of tyranny, but something ambiguous, lacking identity. Like a blank canvas.
We passed servants who stopped and stared. Guards straightened and offered respectful nods rather than hostile glares. Every face showed the same mixture of awe, gratitude, and uncertainty.
I kept my head up, despite the desire to slip back into the shadows. I tried to look like someone worthy of their hope rather than a half-dead woman held together by bandages and spite.
The main doors stood open ahead. Beyond them, I heard voices. Not shouting or screaming, but murmuring, the low, constant sound of thousands of people gathered and waiting.
Daemon paused at the threshold. Looked at me with an expression that asked without words: Ready?
I wasn’t. Would never be ready for something like this. But I nodded anyway.
We stepped through together.
The courtyard spread before us, vast and packed with humanity.
Thousands of people filled every available space.
Citizens stood in torn clothing. Soldiers formed a perimeter in front of us, without weapons.
Children sat on parents’ shoulders. They crowded against the walls, spilled into side streets, packed so tightly I couldn’t see stone between them.
When I appeared, the murmuring stopped.
Silence fell like snow. Every eye turned toward me. Every face showed the same fragile, desperate hope.
Then someone started clapping.
The sound rippled outward. One person, then ten, then hundreds. Thousands. The applause built into something thunderous, shaking the very air. People cheered. Wept. Raised their hands toward me as if I were something holy.
I stood frozen. Had no idea how to respond. How to be what they needed me to be.
Daemon’s hand found mine and squeezed gently.
An older man stepped forward from the crowd. He wore fine robes marked with the insignia of government rather than military. Silver hair, sharp eyes, the bearing of someone used to authority.
“The Prime Minister,” Daemon whispered. One of the few high-ranking officials who’d survived the Devourer’s corruption with his mind intact.
He climbed the steps until he stood before us. Then, to my absolute shock, he knelt.
"My lady." His voice carried across the courtyard.
"On behalf of every citizen of this realm, I thank you.
You walked into darkness that should have consumed you.
Consumed us. You faced an enemy that had already destroyed kings.
And you won." He raised his head, meeting my eyes directly.
"You gave us back our lives. Our futures.
Our children. There are no words sufficient to express what you have done. "
Heat climbed my neck. "I didn’t do it alone, "
"No." He rose smoothly. "You did not. The resistance fought with courage that will be remembered for generations.
Prince Daemon and his companions showed valor beyond measure.
But you, Lady Seris..." He turned to address the crowd.
"You are the one who held the line when reality itself threatened to break.
You are the reason the Devourer returned to the Void rather than consuming our world. "
The crowd roared approval. The sound washed over me like a wave.
“It took an event such as this for us to realize that we have been wrong. Every citizen has made a vow to rid ourselves of the hate we held for Fae kind. We wish to create a kingdom where our two races flourish together.”
The Prime Minister turned back to Daemon.
"Your Highness, with your father… gone… the succession falls to you.
The council has convened an emergency session.
Though there are other candidates, you believe you are best fit to take the throne.
We are prepared to recognize you as the rightful king, should you accept the responsibility. "
Daemon’s hand tightened on mine. I felt his hesitation. All those years of being the shadow prince, the rejected son, the weapon forged in darkness rather than groomed for power, held a place deep in Daemon’s soul. He looked through the crowd, and resolve strengthened his expression.
"I accept," he said quietly. "On the condition that the laws of this kingdom are revised. We have waged war against every neighbor. The laws were designed to make conquest and death convenient. This must change."
"Agreed." The Prime Minister’s expression showed approval. "And your first act as king?"
Daemon looked at me. Something fierce and tender moved through his expression.
"Seris Aeryn." He shifted to face me fully, still holding my hand. "Daughter of the Veil. The woman who saved this realm when no one else could." His thumb brushed across my knuckles. "I’m asking you to stand beside me. Not as a weapon or tool or symbol, but as a partner. As queen."
The courtyard erupted again. Louder this time, joy mixing with approval.
But I barely heard it. I stood staring at Daemon, trying to process what he’d just asked. What accepting would mean. Queen. Not prisoner. Not monster. Not even just survivor. Something new entirely.
The weight of it settled over my shoulders like a mantle. Heavy. Inescapable.
I'd spent my whole life being told what I was. Fae. Veil-touched. Weapon. Monster. Wretch. Every label assigned by someone else's fear or ambition.
My mind ran in every direction. Fear. Doubt. But a portion of the crowd at the front was so loud that I broke out of my trance. It was the resistance. Kaelen. Malzaun. My bodyguards. All covered in bandages and some missing limbs just like I was.
If I became Queen, I could protect them. I would be able to protect them by changing the system itself.
I looked at Daemon, the man who'd freed me, fought beside me, and loved me through every impossible moment. Who'd never once tried to control or diminish what I was.
I would never be able to do this alone, but with him…
"Yes," I said.
The word came out steady, though my mind was full of doubt.
His smile broke like the sunrise.
The crowd's roar shook the stones beneath our feet.
And standing there, broken, exhausted, one-armed and barely standing, I felt something I'd thought lost forever.
Hope.
Not for what had been. Not for the family, home, or innocence I could never reclaim, but for what might yet be built from these ashes.
For what we might become, if we chose wisely.
For a future that we knew joy.