The house burned quietly, like it knew its sins and welcomed the fire. Raven stood across the field, black roses in her hand, smoke in her lungs.
Behind her, the past was ash. In front of her? Silence.
"So," Elias murmured beside her, still bloody, still breathing, "what now?" She turned to him slowly, lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Now?" she said. "We find who built the fire… and we burn them too."
The wind howled. The roses fell.
The story wasn't over.It never was.