Kage’s POV

  The air was tense as Hall and I marched up the steps of Alric Dain’s estate, the weight of the city’s truth pressing down on our shoulders. The guards standing outside stiffened when they saw us, but one look at Hall’s badge and the warrant in his hand had them stepping aside. They knew better than to get in the way.

  We pushed through the grand doors, storming into the lavish entry hall. Dain was waiting for us, seated in a high-backed chair, his hands folded neatly in his lap. His expression was unreadable, but the flicker of tension in his jaw gave him away. He had heard the news. He knew what was coming.

  “Detective Hall, Detective Kage,” he greeted, his voice infuriatingly calm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Hall stepped forward, voice firm. “Alric Dain, you are under arrest for the unlawful imprisonment and drugging of magical citizens, conspiracy against the council, and multiple counts of inhumane treatment. You will stand trial for your crimes.”

  Dain let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “And here I thought you were more intelligent than this, Hall. Do you really think this changes anything?” He turned his gaze to me, smirking. “The people of this city fear magic. They always have. What I did—what I do—is not a crime to them.”

  I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to lunge at him. “You kept people in cages. Drugged them. Stripped them of their autonomy. You don’t get to justify that.”

  Dain’s smirk deepened. “And yet, you had to break the law to stop me.”

  Hall didn’t let him go any further. “Enough. Hands behind your back.”

  Dain didn’t resist as the cuffs were snapped around his wrists, but as Hall led him toward the door, he looked back at me, his eyes gleaming with something that sent ice through my veins.

  “This city was never yours to save.”

  I watched as Hall pulled him outside, past the gathered crowd, past the reporters who hurled questions, past the magicals who had once been his prisoners. I didn’t relax—not yet.

  Because Dain was wrong. We hadn’t saved the city.

  But we had given it a chance.

  Zara’s POV

  The sun had barely begun to rise as I stood at the university’s gates, watching as groups of freed magicals arrived. Some were injured, leaning on their companions. Others were wide-eyed, unsure of what came next. The battle was over, but the fight to rebuild was only just beginning.

  But first, there were debts to be paid.

  Naja and I traveled with a small group of officers back to the prison, the air heavy with the remnants of battle. The ground was still stained with blood, bodies left where they had fallen. Some of the guards, some of the magicals who never made it out.

  Naja and I moved through the battlefield, stopping at each fallen body. Her silver-lit hands hovered over their wounds, the glow intensifying as she mended torn flesh and broken bones. Only once they were stable did I reach for them, the familiar pull of necromantic energy rippling through me as I called them back from the void.

  One by one, the bodies stirred. The magicals gasped, eyes fluttering open as they returned, some grasping onto each other in confusion, disbelief washing over their faces. The guards, too, staggered upright, looking at me with expressions ranging from fear to shock.

  Some flinched when they saw me, realization settling in that they had died—and I had brought them back.

  Naja stepped forward, her silver-lit hands glowing as she checked over those who had been brought back, ensuring they were stable. “You have a second chance,” she told them, her voice steady. “Don’t waste it.”

  Some of the guards lowered their heads, shame written across their faces. Others looked at me warily, as if expecting some kind of punishment.

  “The past is done,” I said, voice firm. “You all have a choice—learn from this, or repeat it.”

  No one spoke, but I saw the understanding settle in their eyes. That was enough. Without another word, we turned back toward the city, leading them toward the future they had to decide for themselves.

  Malrick’s POV

  I had never seen so many magicals in one place before. The university had become a safe haven overnight, a place where magicals could breathe without fear for the first time in a long time. People huddled together in quiet conversations, some planning their next steps, others simply soaking in the freedom they had thought they’d never have again. Some would leave, returning to whatever homes they had left. Others, like me, knew there was nowhere else to go.

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  The university staff had already stepped up, setting up a designated area for the freed magicals to live on campus. Dormitories that had once housed students now provided shelter for those with nowhere else to turn. Professors volunteered to teach magic control, literacy, and survival skills, giving these people the knowledge they were denied while they were imprisoned.

  For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

  I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Liora dropped down onto the bench beside me, nudging my shoulder. “You look like you’re thinking too much again.”

  I huffed a quiet laugh. “There’s a lot to think about.”

  She nodded, stretching out her legs. “Yeah. But there’s also a lot to do. And if you’re staying, you better be ready for training.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering to train with me?”

  She grinned. “I mean, someone’s gotta keep you from getting too serious all the time. Might as well be me.”

  I shook my head, but I couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at my lips. “Guess I don’t have a choice then.”

  “Nope,” she said, popping the “p.”

  Doran’s POV

  I stood just outside the university gates, surrounded by a group of non-magicals who had gathered to listen. Some of them had fear in their eyes, others curiosity, but most of all, I saw uncertainty. They had heard whispers, seen the news spreading, but they didn’t truly understand what had happened.

  So I told them.

  I spoke of the prison, of the magicals locked away simply for existing, stripped of their abilities, their will beaten down until they barely recognized themselves. I told them how we broke in—not as criminals, but as people who couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

  “It wasn’t just magicals fighting magicals,” I said, my voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. “It was people fighting for their right to exist, for their freedom. The ones we freed—some of them never even got a chance to use their magic before they were taken. They were imprisoned for what they might become, not what they had done.”

  A woman near the front frowned, arms crossed. “And what if some of them were dangerous?”

  I sighed. “Then we teach them. That’s what this place—” I gestured back at the university “—is meant for. Controlling magic isn’t about suppressing it, it’s about understanding it. If we’re scared of something, we don’t lock it away. We learn. We grow. Together.”

  Some nodded, others still seemed skeptical, but I could tell the words were sinking in. I wasn’t trying to change minds overnight—I just wanted them to think.

  And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

  Zara’s POV

  The scent of simmering herbs and roasted vegetables filled the kitchen as Naja and I moved around, preparing dinner. The house had been quiet for too long, and now, finally, there was movement again. It felt grounding, normal, after the chaos of the past few days.

  “You sure you’re up for this?” Naja asked, slicing through a loaf of fresh bread with practiced ease. “You’ve barely slept.”

  “Neither have you,” I countered, stirring the pot of stew. “But this… this feels good. We’ve been running on adrenaline for days. Cooking, talking, pretending things are normal for a little while? I need this.”

  She hummed in agreement, her silver-lit hands momentarily pausing. “Yeah. Me too.”

  The front door creaked open, and Doran strolled in, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gods, you can smell that from outside,” he said, leaning against the doorway. “I’m half convinced you’re secretly a kitchen witch.”

  I smirked. “Necromancer first, chef second.”

  Naja nudged him with her elbow. “You’re just happy you get a free meal.”

  He chuckled, moving to grab a seat at the table. “I won’t deny that. But I also wanted to see how things were going around the city. The non-magicals are… reacting, let’s say. Some are relieved, others are furious. There’s a lot of talk about what happens next.”

  Naja frowned. “Any trouble?”

  “Not yet,” Doran admitted. “But you can feel it, you know? The shift in the air. Some people are seeing magicals differently now. Some better, some worse. And the Sovereign Order? They may have lost their leader, but they’re not gone.”

  I sighed. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

  Before any of us could dwell too long on that thought, the door opened again, and Kage stepped in, shrugging off his coat. He was quiet, his face unreadable as he crossed the room.

  “Dain?” I asked.

  Kage exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “Still smug, even in cuffs. He thinks this city will still fall in line with his ideals. That his supporters will continue his work.”

  Doran scoffed. “If the council has any sense, they’ll make an example of him.”

  Kage nodded but didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. But something about the way he spoke… like he wasn’t afraid. Like he still had cards left to play.”

  I exchanged a glance with Naja. “Then we stay vigilant.”

  A knock at the door interrupted us. Malrick stepped inside, hesitating before clearing his throat. “Uh—hey. Hope I’m not late.”

  Liora followed in behind him, her usual smirk present as she nudged him. “He wasn’t sure if he could bring me, but I figured I should meet the people who saved my life.”

  Doran grinned. “Malrick? Making social decisions? Must be the end of days.”

  Malrick groaned, but Liora just laughed, walking further inside. “If it is, at least we get one good meal out of it.”

  We all sat down at the table together, exhaustion still lingering but something else creeping in—peace.

  As we ate, the conversation drifted to everything that had happened. Liora spoke of the prison, of the nights spent wondering if she’d ever be free. But despite the horrors, she spoke with resolve, not fear.

  Then, her voice grew quieter. “Zara… is it possible to bring my twin brother back?”

  The table fell silent. I met her gaze, seeing the hope she held onto, even when she probably knew the answer.

  I took a slow breath. “It’s been too long. I can’t bring him back fully, but… I can summon his spirit. If you’d like to speak with him one last time.”

  Liora swallowed, then nodded. “I’d like that.”

  The conversation shifted after that, but something in the air had changed. The war was over, but the scars it left behind were still fresh.

  Just as we were finishing up, a familiar clatter echoed through the room, followed by the clicking of bones.

  Bones, my skeletal cat, leapt onto the table, sniffing at a piece of roasted meat as if he still had a nose. Liora’s eyes widened before she burst into laughter. “Okay, that’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Bones,” I scolded, nudging him away. “No stealing.”

  Liora scratched under his bony jaw, and he purred—or at least made a sound close to it. “I love him. Can I keep him?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  For the first time in days, the laughter at the table was genuine, and for a moment, it felt like we had finally found something normal again.