It started with silence. Not peace, not calm—just the hollow absence of war.
We stood in the basin, surrounded by ash and quiet. The Queen was gone. The Gates were closed. The Starborn had vanished like they'd never been. But nothing felt finished. If anything, the end of one war had only cleared the stage for another.
Kael sat with her back against a fractured stone, her breath heavy but even. Ashi crouched nearby, running her fingers over the dirt as though feeling for a pulse. Eryn tended to the wounded with trembling hands, whispering words of comfort that felt too soft for this broken place.
I held the seed.
It was warm. Alive. Like it knew it wasn't just a key, but a promise.
"We should bury it," I said.
Kael's eyes met mine. "Where?"
"Here. In the basin."
"This is where we almost died."
"It's also where we chose to live."
We buried the seed at the very center, beneath the scorched sigils of the Eighth Mark. The earth resisted at first, dry and stubborn, but when the seed touched the soil, the ground sighed. That's the only way I can describe it—a release of breath the world didn't know it was holding.
And then it rained.
Not fire. Not blood. Just rain.
We laughed. All of us. Broken, bleeding, bruised—and laughing. Because that kind of storm was rare. Cleansing. Kind. It washed soot from our skin and pain from our bones. For a moment, we were just people again. Not warriors. Not survivors. Just… alive.
The next few days blurred. The Starborn left marks across the realm—fractures in reality, strange echoes in the trees, stardust drifting in forgotten ruins. People emerged from hiding. Tribes that had been silenced by the Queen's terror returned to the light.
They looked to me.
I hated that.
Not because I feared leadership, but because I still didn't know who I was without the war.
"Rae," Eryn said one morning, joining me by the tree growing from the seed. It had already sprouted, its trunk coiled with strange silver veins.
"Yeah?"
"Do you believe we're safe now?"
I stared at the tree. "No. But I believe we're not alone anymore. That counts for something."
She nodded. "That's what scares me."
Kael left first.
She said she needed to find her own war. Not another battle, but a cause—something worth rebuilding. She kissed my forehead and vanished into the western sky, a streak of thunder in her wake. I didn't stop her.
Ashi stayed. She became something of a guide to the realm, her shadow Mark now a bridge between the remnants of darkness and the fragile new light. People feared her. Respected her. But mostly, they listened.
As for me… I stayed near the tree.
It grew faster than anything I'd seen. Within weeks, it towered above the basin, its branches humming with low, melodic tones. Some nights I swore I heard the Starborn singing through it.
I started carving names into its trunk. Not to remember the dead—but to honor the living. Because every soul who survived the Queen's reign deserved to be etched into the future.
One evening, I found a child standing at the base of the tree. Wide-eyed, barefoot, and clutching a stone etched with a clumsy version of the Mark.
"You came to see it?" I asked.
She nodded. "Mama says it's magic."
"It is."
"Does it protect us?"
"Only if we protect each other."
She handed me the stone. "Can you put this with the others?"
I took it. Heavy for something so small.
"Yeah," I said. "I can."
And I did.
Weeks turned to months. The basin became sacred ground. Not because of what we lost—but because of what we found.
Hope.
Not the loud, heroic kind. The quiet kind. The kind that grows roots beneath your grief and dares to sprout anyway.
I still dreamed of the Queen sometimes. Of her voice, cold and cruel. Of her final scream. But I no longer woke up afraid. Just... aware.
The war didn't end with victory.
It ended with choice.
And every day, we chose to keep going.
To be continued...