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Chapter 37 - Ronan
Last Updated:
2026-01-15 19:16:23
BryantThorne wanted to fight Ronan. He got that. He just didn't get the ending he wanted. True example of fuck around and find out, or play stupid games and win stupid prizes.
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Echoes of Ruin Bonus Epilogue - Nora
The castle groaned like it was saying goodbye. I’d walked through its corridors a hundred times since we came home from Obscura Arcanum, but that morning was different. I walked slower. Let my fingers graze over stones that still thrummed with leftover enchantments, their heat a ghost in the walls from where Elias had etched sigils into the foundation stones, where Caelum had walked back and forth, circling in meetings, where Lucien had leaned into the dark like it had been his first home before I was. Dust had settled back on the windowsills, evidence that life had been living here as well. Not in disuse, but in intention. Because we weren’t just keeping a ruin standing anymore. We were building around it. And I would be leaving it behind again. I let my hand rest on the curve of the second-floor banister. Its wood was rounded from time and the hands of many, the edges worn smooth. I’d run up and down these stairs more times than I could count, chased by shadows and secrets and bo
Echoes of Ruin Bonus Epilogue - Elias
By the time the sun crested the ridgeline and poured soft gold across the valley, I was already ankle-deep in fresh dirt and chalk lines, hands dusty with ash and silver ink. It was the third house of the day. Not the biggest, not the most important, but I was doing it with the same care I’d done the other two. A single-story cottage just past the outer circle of completed homes, close enough to the main road for convenience, far enough back for quiet. Kellan was somewhere behind me, grumbling at the construction crew about the load-bearing wall they’d overcut. Nora was across the way, arms crossed and sharp eyes on the work as if she was mentally cataloging every nail and beam. She looked good in the sun. A little smudged from helping haul building materials, hair in a messy braid that hung over one shoulder. Even with exhaustion etched around her eyes, even with a hundred decisions written in the furrow of her brow, she looked like home. And it was that feeling I tried to bottle
Echoes of Ruin Bonus Epilogue - Lucien
The castle was no longer a refuge for a few misfits. It was becoming a home for many. A month after graduation, Ember Hills was no longer a haunted relic of the dragon war. It was a breathing, living thing. What had been Seraphine’s tomb was now thrumming with purpose, every stone alive with the footsteps of the people who had chosen to stay. They came from all places, Obscura graduates without family to return to, loners with nothing left after failed alliances, witches exiled from their homes for supporting Nora, independent shifters who didn’t want to play by the rules the old packs set. Some had nothing but a backpack and shattered dreams. Others came with wagons, children, and heartbreak. Their arrival never overwhelmed me. It steadied me. As Caelum and Nora dealt with diplomacy and magical negotiations and diplomatic firefighting after the wards protecting Obscura were exposed as useless, I had other things to occupy my mind. Things to build. Things to do. Fires to stoke, bo
Echoes of Ruin Bonus Epilogue - Caelum
The castle didn’t feel old. It felt new. The castle loomed over us like a stone crown, its towers scraping the pale morning light. It had been Seraphina’s once. It had been a gathering place for all dragons, united before a war that tore the clans apart. But now it was ours. We’d come here for our winter and spring breaks before, but something had changed since the last time we gathered under its great vaulted ceilings. It wasn’t just a place for the four of us to heal or huddle and plan in secret anymore. It was a fortress. A hearth. A symbol of something that had not existed in many lifetimes. A home. We crossed the threshold into the castle. The air buzzed around us with the low thrum of dragon magic. Old, familiar, and watchful. I didn’t twitch away from it. Neither did Nora. Lucien grumbled about the wards, and Elias winked at me, but even they could feel it. This place knew us again. Silent steps echoed around the empty halls, not because there was no one there, but because
Echoes of Ruin Epilogue - Ronan
Bloodpine smelled like pine sap and iron, and the wind was just as biting as I stepped across the border. Every footfall pressed into the earth that had birthed me, sharp-toothed and harsh. Nothing about it had changed while I was gone. The trees were just as dense and soundless. The air vibrated with the tension of an unseen spring. I didn’t take ten steps before the growling began. “Mother fucker,” a voice snapped, thick with anger. I barely turned before the first body collided with my back. Fangs ready. Claws extended. Three of them, packmates I’d shared blood with, now drooling and spitting teeth I wasn’t about to defend. One of them got my shoulder, tore across it. Another circled at my legs, trying to sweep them out from under me. The third punch was hard enough to crack the side of my jaw, but I didn’t fall. I don’t fall. “Traitor,” one growled, pushing harder into my back.I rolled underneath him, slammed his back into the earth, and rolled the other way with the force of
Echoes of Ruin Epilogue - Kellan
I didn’t know how heavy Runebound soil felt until I stepped on it again. The wards knew me. Runes buried in the loam centuries past stirred, faint filaments of magic grazing my ankles, my spine, the nape of my neck. It had felt like home before, like safety. Now it was like being watched. Cataloged. Held up to something I no longer wanted to measure up to. Ronan did not flinch. He trod into Runebound soil at my side like it was his right, his hand brushing mine, not gripping, not claiming. Just…there. Solid. Present. My wolf relaxed at that, even as the runes hissed questions they did not yet understand. The pack came in waves. As they always did. Runebound celebrated the ritual, the ceremony, and the group watching. Wolves sat in the stone ring around the central glade, leaders in their tabards with their sigils stitched in, oracles with chalky fingers, shamans already murmuring prayers as if the coming was a tempest. And at the center were my parents. My father, Rowan Reed. Tal
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