Ava’s POV
The silence was the loudest thing I’d ever heard.
I lay on the cold stone floor of the ruined temple, the scent of scorched earth and ancient magic thick in the air. My lungs burned with every breath I managed to pull in, as if the void had left its mark inside me. My fingers curled weakly around Damon’s hand—still warm, still solid—and I held on like he was the only tether keeping me from slipping away again.
Because maybe he was.
“It’s over,” he whispered, brushing a trembling thumb across my knuckles. “You did it.”
We did it. But I couldn’t say the words. My throat was raw, like I’d been screaming for centuries.
Cyrus limped over to us, his usually sharp gaze dull from exhaustion. His clothes were singed, his face streaked with ash and blood, but there was a look in his
