The sun lingering over the Iron-Thorn Pass was a pale, tired gold, casting long
shadows of the petrified obsidian trees across the wreckage of the Siphon-Tower.
The violet mist of the "Great Scouring" had finally dissipated, replaced by the
clean, sharp scent of pine needles and the metallic tang of cooling iron. We
stood in the center of the battlefield—the "unwanted" girl who had become a
mother, the Alpha who had become a man, and the Protector who had proven that a
heart of dirt was stronger than a scepter of light.
I sat on a fallen trunk, my legs shaking from the physical exhaustion of
grounding the Siphon's resonance. Aidan was silent in my arms, his tiny fingers
still curled around the edge of the brass gear. But the gear was no longer
brass. It had transformed into a deep, translucent garnet that caught the
setting sun and held it, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic warmth that felt like a
human heartbeat.
