*Jiselle*
The stronghold did not fall.
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It should have–by all reason, by the weight of centuries of curses and battles–but instead it stood, scarred and rebuilt in ways that made it almost unrecognizable. The stone that once trembled with Hollow–born screams had been reforged, patched, polished, and painted with runes that no longer bound but blessed. The walls no longer felt like cages. They felt like choices.
And there were children now.
Their laughter carried through the courtyards like a song louder than any war cry. I stood at the threshold of the training field, my daughter’s small hand curled around my fingers, and watched them chase each other across the grass. Wolves‘ pups tumbled beside them, their howls softened into play. For the first time, the stronghold rang not with the fear of survival but the noise of life.
“Does it feel strange?” Eva asked softly behind me. She had shed her beads, the broken fragments woven into a flame–pendant at her throat, and the light in her eyes was steadier now. “Hearing joy here?”
I smiled faintly. “It feels… like a place we fought for, and this time, we actually get to keep it.”
Nate walked past us, his arms full of lumber, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. He nodded once at me before carrying the wood toward the half–built garden wall. He never stopped moving these days. When war ended, he hadn’t learned how to rest–so he built instead.
I followed him, Solara tugging on my hand until we reached the far corner of the garden where the soil had been turned. There, I crouched low and pressed a sapling into the dirt. Its bark was thin, pale, not yet hardened, and the roots spread like fragile veins into the earth. My fingers lingered at the base, grounding it firmly.
It reminded me of the tree that once grew in my room. The one that split open, bleeding a dagger into my hands. But this time was different. This tree wasn’t born of fracture or of fear. It wasn’t forced into existence by the Gate or the Hollow.
This tree grew from choice.
I leaned back on my heels and wiped my palms against my cloak. “This one’s ours,” I whispered, mostly to myself.
Solara crouched beside me, tilting her head. “It listens,” she said.
I glanced at her, uneasy. “What do you mean?”
She touched the small trunk with her fingertip. “It remembers. But it’s not afraid anymore.”
The ground pulsed faintly, a whisper of magic moving through the leyline, and for the first time I didn’t recoil. The tree steadied in the soil. And so did I.
Behind me, Nate’s voice carried over the walls, steady and low. “It’s good work, Jis.”
9:29 Thu, Oct 2
Chapter 238
I looked up. He was standing at the top of the rider, farmer in hand, his eyes find on the her than tige wall he was building
And for a moment, I let myself believe it. That we had actually bull something worth veget
But peace is fragile And peace is never promised.
Because just as the last rays of dusk dipped across the stones, a shadow passed over the new root, flowing box cold. My skin prickled. I turned toward the nursery where Solara’s bed waited, and something side me clenched tight.
On her blanket, tucked half beneath the fold, lay a single black feather.
Still warm
By the time the stars rose, the feather was gone. I hadn’t thrown it away. I hadn’t burned it. It had simply
vanished, as if it had never existed at all.
But the unease lingered.
I climbed onto the roof with Nate, settling beside him on the stone tiles as the night stretched wide above us. From here, the stronghold no longer looked like ruins or battleground. The courtyards glowed with lanterns, wolves kept watch not out of fear but habit, and the laughter of children still echoed faintly from below.
Solara ran across the garden far beneath us, her cloak fluttering like smoke as she chased sparks that leapt from the tree I had planted earlier. She was too young to run like that, too small to laugh with such certainty, yet she did. She was already more than what the world had tried to make her.
Nate sat with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped, his gaze fixed on her. The lines around his eyes were softer now, but the weight of everything we had been through still pressed on him. He had built walls, dug trenches, repaired stones–but the fracture between us had taken longer to mend.
I leaned against him, my shoulder brushing his. He didn’t flinch this time. He tilted his head until it rested against mine.
“She’s faster than the others,” he murmured, watching Solara.
“She’s everything faster,” I replied.
We sat like that for a long while, just watching her. And when the silence stretched, Nate finally spoke again.
“I didn’t just survive you, Jis.” His voice was low, raw, as if he had been carrying the words for too long. “I lived because of you.”
I turned my head sharply, meeting his gaze. He didn’t look away. His eyes burned steady, not with fire, not with fear, but with truth.
The ache in my chest cracked open, softer than it had been in years. I reached for his hand. “And I lived because you never let go.”
9:29 Thu, Oct 2
Chapter 238
Our fingers threaded together, no fire searing between them this time, only warmth. Only choice.
Solara’s laughter rang out again, drifting up to us, brighter than the stars.
I closed my eyes, let the sound settle into me. For the first time in years, I felt whole. Not because the curse was gone. Not because the Hollow had fallen.
But because we had chosen each other, over and over, even when everything else tried to tear us apart.
And yet the feather returned.
It lay at the edge of the roof, black and gleaming, the air around it humming faintly with Power.
I froze, my hand tightening around Nate’s. He followed my gaze, his body going rigid as he saw it too.
The peace we had built might not be unbroken after all.
AD
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
