Chapter 108

Elora’s POV

The war was over. That’s what they said. But the quiet that came after? Worse than any battle cry. The kind of silence that makes every hair in your body stand up.

I wandered through what was left of the NightShade stronghold... if you could even call this pile of scorched rock a stronghold anymore. The banners were nothing but scraps flapping in the breeze. The world said we won, but victory looked like a joke.

The courtyard was just… bodies. Some folks had tossed cloaks over them, but most were lying there, eyes open, faces pale. The wolves... my people moved around, quiet, nursing wounds, whispering old names into the wind. Names that would fade before the next moon. I made my way through the debris, trying to avoid the blood and broken swords, breathing slowly and steadily, not wanting any more of this place inside me.

Ghosts everywhere. I couldn't turn my head without seeing them. Kids clutching at nothing, limbless soldiers, packs split and silent. The kind of heartbreak that clings.

I found myself back at the old training yard, which was just… sad, honestly. Used to be the center of everything. That’s where I learned to fight, where Dominic would bark at me to fix my stance, where Dante laughed at me for being too graceful. Now, it was just dust and emptiness. Not even an echo could be heard.

My hands were shaking when I knelt next to one of the members of my pack. His eyes were stuck on the sky like he was searching for answers. I reached over, closed them, mumbling, “We did it.” It didn't matter who I was telling. Him, me, the dead gods. Nobody believed it.

Part of me half-expected Mira to show up again, army in tow, ready to wreck whatever scraps we had left. She hadn’t, though. Not yet. Just rumors and the kind of fear that sticks to your mind. Even just the thought of her made my skin crawl. She wasn’t just a villain, she was a nightmare still hiding in the corners.

A cold wind kicked up, bringing pine and the last hints of smoke. It felt like the whole forest was in mourning too.

By the time I got up to the north wall, the sun finally decided to come out. Gold everywhere, making the ruins glow like a cruel joke. Like, hey, time marches on. Doesn’t care if you’re ready or not.

Dante told me once that wars don’t end when the noise stops. They end when you can sleep... really sleep without waking up screaming. I hadn’t slept in… hell, I lost count.

My mind was a disaster zone; Dominic’s growls bouncing around, Dante’s touch still there like a bruise. My heart? Total mess. Couldn’t figure out if I wanted to run or stay, if I was grieving for what was gone or what never really was.

Dominic’s changed, I think. Saw it in his eyes after the last fight, like he finally got it. Less rage, more regret. Maybe he finally saw me, not just the version of me he wanted.

But Dante is the steady one. The light that wouldn’t die, even when everything else did. He stood by me. Through all of it. Made me remember what it was to feel… well, human, in the middle of all this wreckage.

Love. God, what a dangerous word. Didn’t dare say it. Not out loud.

Then... “Elora.” My name, cutting through the mess in my head. Turned around and there was Dante, looking like hell: shirt torn, arm wrapped up, tired all over except for that stubborn little smile.

Words didn't come out. Couldn’t make out any words. They just stuck in my throat.

He stepped closer, boots sounding over the stones, eyes drifting to the broken wall, the fields that used to be alive.

“It’s quiet,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Too quiet.”

“Doesn’t feel real,” I managed.

He nodded, jaw tight. “It’ll take time.”

Time. Not sure I had any of that left in me.

I turned away, hair falling in my eyes, hands still shaking. Didn’t want him to see. I didn't want anyone to see, really.

Yeah, well... he did. No surprise there.

Dante reached over, fingers just barely brushing my wrist. “Elora,” he murmured, so freaking gentle, “it’s over. You can finally breathe.”

Soft words. Soothing, I guess. Meant to patch me up.

Instead, they cut straight through me. Sharp as hell.

I stared at him. Really took him in, the guy who had almost bled out in my arms, who’d kept swinging beside me when he should’ve been flat on his back. The one who kissed me passionately.

And still, some messed-up piece of me is stuck with someone else.

Dominic.

My chest felt like it was caving in while I tried to ignore the confusion in my head. I wanted to shake my head, tell Dante he’d gotten it wrong, that it wasn’t over, that I’d forgotten how to breathe without pain.

But nope. I couldn’t get the words out.

So I just stood there like an idiot, mute.

He studied me, searching for something I couldn’t give him. Then, after a second, he dropped his head, like he understood, like my silence told him everything he needed to know.

He let go, stepped away. “Then we’ll start small,” he said, way too calm. “One breath at a time.”

And then he left, walked back toward the camp, left me standing there in the wreckage, keeping company with ghosts.

The sun was way up by the time I found myself perched alone on the busted wall. Down below, healers hustled around the wounded. Kids got soup shoved into their hands. The pack tried to make its way back to normal.

I still felt stuck between two worlds, the one we barely managed to save, and the one that died screaming the first night of the war.

I glanced down at my hands. Dirt and dried blood, painted right into my skin.

Maybe Dante was onto something. Maybe I could breathe again.

But when I finally tried, the air just scorched going in.