The courtyard stank of blood and scorched iron. The fires still burned, licking at collapsed beams and shattered ramparts. A nightmarish silence pressed down on the survivors, broken only by the moans of the wounded.
Seraphina moved through the aftermath like a ghost, her boots sinking into soot and gore. The brilliance of her final spell still tingled in her fingertips, leaving her dizzy with its echo.
She found Valen sitting on a cracked pillar, breath ragged, sword balanced across his knees. Blood dripped steadily from a gash in his temple, running down the side of his face.
"You should rest," she murmured, brushing his matted hair from his eyes.
He looked up at her with a grin, weary but unbroken. "Rest is for tomorrow. Today we rebuild."
"Rebuild what?" Seraphina's voice trembled as she glanced at the devastation around them. Ravenhold looked less like a fortress than a tomb — walls crumbling, towers half-collapsed, bodies strewn across the stones like broken dolls.
Valen set his jaw. "Rebuild everything."
For a long moment, they said nothing. Wind whistled through the ruined gates, carrying with it a metallic scent of war and a far-off promise of rain.
Seraphina wrapped her arms around herself, swallowing the sting of tears.
The Dread King's corpse still smoldered where he had fallen, a charred monument to nightmares defeated. His shattered crown lay in pieces, a relic of fear turned to dust.
But Seraphina felt no triumph. Only exhaustion, and a quiet, simmering grief.
---
The survivors of Ravenhold gathered in the courtyard, drawn to the sight of their leaders standing tall.
Children peered out from behind the legs of armored soldiers. Gray-haired men and women who had wielded pitchforks instead of swords during the siege now held their heads high, searching for hope in Seraphina's blazing eyes.
"People of Ravenhold," she called, her voice ringing over the rubble, "you have stood against the night and survived!"
A ragged cheer answered her, but the sound was brittle, half-afraid to believe.
"The Dread King is fallen," she continued, letting her magic crackle around her, sparks dancing on her palms. "His reign of terror is broken, and you — every one of you — are the reason why."
A hush fell.
She stepped forward, lifting her hands. "This place will rise again. Not because of me. Not because of Valen. But because of you. You are the beating heart of this fortress. And no darkness will ever put that heart out."
The hush broke like a wave. Cheers rose again, this time stronger, rolling through the ruins and stirring even the most battered of souls.
Valen stood, sword raised. "For Ravenhold!" he bellowed.
"For Ravenhold!" they roared back, until their throats turned hoarse.
---
Night came quietly, as if the heavens themselves feared to cast another shadow over Ravenhold.
Seraphina found a moment of solitude in the highest tower, watching the moon rise pale and thin over a world forever changed.
She let the night breeze cool the heat of battle from her skin.
Valen appeared at her side, moving carefully, one hand pressed to his ribs.
"Is it over?" he asked, voice husky with the weight of everything they'd survived.
She shook her head. "Not over. Never over."
His lips twitched. "Then we fight tomorrow."
Seraphina leaned against him, drawing in the scent of steel and ash and the faint, sweet echo of their magic intertwined.
"Yes," she whispered. "Tomorrow."
They stood together in the tower, staring into a sky full of distant stars, trying to imagine a world that might, someday, be free of nightmares.
---