Page 38 of Betraying the Beast

“Not as a subject,” he said. “As an ally.”

Rorik bowed his head again. “As you wish… my king.”

Ceryn leaned down, brushing her lips across Vael’Zhur’s brow.

“Not a beast,” she whispered. “Never again.”

Chapter

Eleven

A few days later, after the smoke and dust had cleared and the army fled, they walked the orchard in silence, side by side.

Ceryn's hand was tucked into his—Auren's—his massive palm engulfing hers with gentle warmth. The sunlight filtered through the trees in shafts of gold, catching in the fur along his shoulders and mane. His footsteps were heavy, but steady now, unburdened by madness. Her steps were lighter too.

The orchard had changed.

The fruit no longer pulsed with that eerie, unnatural rhythm. Instead, it glowed soft and steady, like candlelight. The trees no longer leaned like watchers or hung with dread. They breathed now—living, not cursed. Their leaves shimmered with calm magic, no longer tinged with blood memory.

Even the wind felt different—less like a whisper of warning, more like a song.

“Do you feel it?” Ceryn asked softly, brushing her fingers along the bark of one of the ancient trees.

Auren turned toward her, golden eyes warm and knowing.

“For the first time in centuries… the orchard doesn’t need to defend itself.”

They paused beneath the oldest tree, the one with the name he’d once clawed away.

The gouges remained—but the vine that had grown over them had receded, revealing the truth.

Auren.

Unmarred now. Whole.

“It should stay,” he said when she looked at him questioningly. “Let the scars be seen. So no one forgets how easily love turns to ruin… or how it can turn back again.”

The voice that answered was not Ceryn’s.

“Well spoken, my lord.”

They turned.

Elodia stood among the trees, ethereal as always, though her form shimmered brighter now. She looked… lighter. Less bound. The magic in the orchard had touched her too.

“You’re not fading anymore,” Auren noted.

“The curse was not only yours,” she replied. “The orchard, the castle, the guardians—we were all tethered to that name.”

Ceryn stepped forward. “So it’s really gone?”

Elodia smiled, wistful and radiant. “Not gone. Transformed. The curse wasn’t lifted by violence, but by choice. By naming. By truth. By love freely given, without hope of return. That was the old magic. That was the key.”

She looked between them.

“He gave you his name… and you gave it back. Without fear.”

Auren’s grip on Ceryn’s hand tightened, grounding them both in that truth.

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