The weeks following the Summer Festival were a blur of funerals and healing.
Twenty-three Dragon Lords had fallen in the attack, along with seventeen dragons who had succumbed to the poison before the voidstone could be destroyed. The Citadel was in mourning, its halls filled with the sounds of grief and remembrance.
Seraphina attended every funeral, spoke with every family, honored every sacrifice. It was exhausting, emotionally draining, but she did it because it was what a queen should do.
Because these were her people now, and they deserved her attention.
Kestrel stayed beside her through all of it, offering silent support when words failed. Their relationship had grown deeper since that night in the sky—no longer just trainer and student, but partners in every sense that mattered.
Pyre recovered slowly from the poison, her ancient constitution fighting off the effects that would have killed a younger dragon. Through the bond, Seraphina felt her strength returning day by day, felt the dragon's determination to be whole again.
I will fly by your side for centuries yet, Pyre promised. This minor setback will not be my end.
I know, Seraphina responded. But it scared me.
Fear is a wise teacher. It reminds us of what we value. Pyre's consciousness wrapped around hers. And I value you, little flame. More than you know.
The political fallout from Blackwood's betrayal was significant. The remaining Dragon Lords were suspicious of each other, wondering who else might have been compromised. The Queen ordered a thorough investigation, and several more traitors were discovered and dealt with.
But the Ash Covenant was broken. Its leadership was dead, its cells scattered, its plans in ruins. The threat that had loomed over the kingdom for centuries was finally, truly, ended.
Or so Seraphina hoped.
"You're thinking too much," Kestrel said one evening, finding her on the terrace where she had once stood watching the stars before the Conjunction.
"Is that possible?"
"When it keeps you from sleeping, yes." He moved to stand beside her, their shoulders touching. "What's troubling you?"
"Everything. Nothing." She shook her head. "I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the next crisis to emerge."
"That's the burden of ruling. There's always another crisis." He took her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. "But that doesn't mean you can't find moments of peace."
"Are you offering me a moment of peace?"
"I'm offering you whatever you need." His golden eyes were warm in the starlight. "Friendship. Support. Love. All of the above."
"All of the above," she repeated, smiling. "I think I'd like that."
They stood together in comfortable silence, watching the stars wheel overhead. Somewhere below, the Citadel was beginning to heal from its wounds. Dragons were flying again, their calls echoing across the valley. The world was mending.
"What happens now?" Seraphina asked.
"Now? We rebuild. We recover. We prepare for whatever comes next." Kestrel squeezed her hand. "And we live. That's the most important part."
"Living?"
"Living. After everything we've been through, after all the sacrifices and battles and losses—living is the victory." He turned to face her fully. "I want to live, Seraphina. With you. For as long as we have."
"That could be centuries."
"I'm counting on it."
She smiled, feeling the truth of his words settling into her bones. For months—no, for almost a year—she had been fighting, struggling, surviving. Now it was time to do more than survive.
It was time to live.
She leaned into Kestrel, letting him wrap his arms around her, and together they watched the stars.
Tomorrow there would be more work, more challenges, more demands on her time and energy. But tonight, in this moment, there was peace.
And that was enough.