Page 39 of Betraying the Beast

Footsteps approached from the path behind, and Ceryn turned to see Rorik leading Maeva and Saraid toward them.

Maeva broke into a run, weaving between the trees like a child reborn into spring.

“Ceryn!”

Ceryn bent just in time to catch her sister in a tight hug. Maeva clung to her, laughing, coughing only once—less sharply than before.

“You’re safe,” Ceryn whispered. “We’re all safe now.”

Saraid followed more slowly, but her eyes were clearer than Ceryn had seen them in years. The grief hadn’t vanished, but it no longer hollowed her out.

She looked at Auren and gave a stiff nod.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

Then her gaze flicked to Rorik, lingering a little longer than expected.

Ceryn raised a brow and murmured, “You’re going to marry him, aren’t you?”

Saraid didn’t answer—but the way she flushed and turned away said enough.

“She’s still fierce,” Rorik murmured from behind, watching her with something almost soft in his eyes. “But I think she finally believes in something again.”

Auren chuckled low in his chest. “Pity the man who underestimates her.”

They walked together, the strange little party wandering through the trees with nowhere to run from and nowhere to go. Just time. Just peace.

Eventually, the castle rose ahead of them—still wounded, but healing.

Stone by stone, it was being rebuilt.

Auren was the one doing most of the work. He had no need for sleep and centuries of solitude had left him with nothing but time and knowledge. His claws could shape stone. His strength could raise beams. And the orchard seemed to help, creeping tendrils forming scaffolding where needed.

It would never be what it once was. But neither were they.

Rorik paused near the edge of the trees and turned back toward them.

“You need to come outside,” he said.

Auren frowned. “We are outside.”

Rorik just smiled.

“Not like this. Come. You need to see it.”

Curious, they followed him up the low rise past the orchard’s edge. The sun had dipped toward the horizon, casting the sky in hues of violet and gold.

And below—a sea of people.

Villagers. Survivors. Curious wanderers. Men and women with cautious steps and reverent eyes. Some knelt. Others wept. Children peeked from behind legs, whispering stories as if they already knew them.

Not one approached the orchard.

Not one crossed the boundary.

But they had come. To witness. To begin again. To offer their help and support.

Ceryn slipped her hand into Auren’s.

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