Chapter 74
The Morning After the End of the World
The sun came up over New Orleans like it was shy (soft gold, no judgment, just checking to see if we were still here).
We were.
The Chevy rolled back through the academy gates at 7:17 a.m. with eight teenagers, one ancient headmistress, and one dragon who still hadn't found his shirt.
The courtyard looked like a war zone that had decided to throw a block party instead of dying.
Someone had already strung Christmas lights through the broken columns.
A ghost brass band was playing "When the Saints Go Marching In" at half-speed and twice the soul.
The smell of chicory coffee and beignets drifted from a food truck that definitely hadn't existed yesterday.
Remy parked crooked, killed the engine, and just sat there for a second.
Celeste leaned her head on his shoulder, twin tails brushing his Rams jacket.
"We did it," she whispered, like saying it too loud might jinx it.
Remy huffed a laugh. "Yeah, babe. We kinda saved everything."
Lucian hopped out of the truck bed, stretched, wings flaring copper in the sunrise.
Seras vaulted the tailgate and landed beside him, literally, on fire and grinning.
Jax and Li were already livestreaming the wreckage, arguing over the perfect caption.
Elowen took one look at the food truck, sighed the sigh of the eternally resigned, and marched straight toward the coffee.
Thorne and I stayed in the back seat a minute longer.
The Sanguis Draconis glowed soft between us, quiet for once (like it had finally learned how to rest).
He brushed a thumb over my cheek, smearing a streak of dried goddess-ash.
"Hey, princess," he said, voice rough from singing along to Lynyrd Skynyrd at 3 a.m. renditions.
"Hey, prince," I answered.
"We just rewrote reality with a bunch of Southern lunatics and a trickster god."
"Pretty much."
He leaned his forehead against mine.
"So what do we do now?"
I thought about it.
The Veil was healed.
The monsters were gone (for now).
The Council was terrified of us.
We had crawfish boils to finish, classes to skip, and an entire future that didn't have to end in fire.
I smiled.
"Now?" I said. "Now we go get beignets.
And maybe, if you're lucky, I let you steal one of my fries."
Thorne laughed (real, free, centuries in the making) and kissed me like the world was brand-new and entirely ours.
Outside, Remy was already arguing with the ghost trumpet player about key changes.
Celeste was teaching a baby vampire how to ollie on her hoverboard.
Seras and Lucian were slow-dancing on a slab of broken marble while the sun rose behind them like it had nowhere else to be.
Jax shouted that the GoFundMe had hit ten million and counting.
Li yelled back that half of it was earmarked for "therapeutic crawfish."
Elowen raised her coffee cup in a tired toast.
"To the dumbest, luckiest, loudest pack the world never deserved."
We drank (coffee, moonshine, river water, didn't matter).
The morning tasted like sugar and gunpowder and second chances.
Somewhere far away, a coyote howled once (laughing, proud, already planning the next game.
But for now,
For this one perfect morning,
The Veil held.
The South breathed.
And eight kids who had once been told they were monsters
sat in the ruins of everything
and ate beignets like tomorrow could wait.
The Goodbye That Isn't One
The food-truck beignets were gone, the ghost band had faded into the sunrise, and the courtyard finally felt quiet enough to hear your own heartbeat.
Remy leaned against the hood of the Chevy, arms crossed, Lakeside Rams jacket zipped up for once. Celeste sat on the tailgate beside him, legs swinging, twin tails catching the light like platinum fire.
Seras and Lucian stood a little apart, her head on his bare copper-scaled shoulder, his wing curled protectively around her.
Remy cleared his throat.
"Hate to eat and run," he drawled, "but Aerie Academy's gonna send a search party if we don't roll back through the ward-line by sunset. Headmaster's already pissed we borrowed the hellmouth without asking."
Celeste hopped down, skateboard flipping up into her hand with a soft magnetic click.
"Translation," she said, ruby eyes soft, "we've got detention with a literal phoenix who thinks tardiness is a mortal sin."
Seras laughed. "He molts when he's mad. It's a whole thing."
Lucian stretched, wings flaring once in the morning light. "Plus, we kinda promised we'd bring the truck back in one piece. So far we're at… ninety percent?"
Remy kicked a dent in the fender that definitely hadn't been there yesterday. "Eighty-five, tops."
They all looked at us (me and Thorne still half-tangled on the academy steps, covered in powdered sugar and each other).
Remy's grin went crooked.
"Y'all know the deal. Hot Springs is only a rift away. You ever need us (Council tries anything stupid, Veil hiccups, or you just want crawfish that'll make you speak in tongues), you call. One blood-crystal text, one dragon roar, or dramatic flare into the sky and the Rams ride."
Celeste stepped forward, pressed something small and warm into my palm.
A ruby the size of a dime, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Blood-line pager," she said. "Unbreakable. Untraceable. Works across dimensions. Also doubles as a grenade if you're feeling dramatic."
She smirked. "We usually are."
Seras bumped my shoulder with hers, leaving a faint scorch mark on my sleeve.
"Same goes for us, dragon girl. Aerie Academy's got a standing invitation. Once you graduate (or blow this place up, whichever comes first), come find us. We've got a whole dorm wing that's basically a supernatural fight club with better snacks."
Lucian nodded. "And an open-air flight deck big enough for two dragons and a very dramatic vampire prince."
Thorne lifted an eyebrow. "Tempting."
Remy pushed off the truck, walked over, and pulled me into a bear hug that smelled like cedar smoke and home.
"You did good, Riley Kane," he said against my hair. "Real good."
Then he let go, turned to Thorne, and (without warning) yanked him into the same hug.
Thorne went stiff for half a second, then relaxed, and hugged back like he was relearning how.
Remy clapped him on the back hard enough to rattle fangs.
"Take care of our girl, prince. Or I'll come back and use your spine as a jump rope."
Thorne's answering smile was all teeth. "Likewise, coyote."
Celeste kissed my cheek (cold lips, warm promise), then Remy's hand found hers like it was magnetized.
Seras and Lucian waved once (fire and copper against the sunrise).
The four of them climbed into the Chevy.
Remy fired it up with a roar that sounded suspiciously like a coyote howl.
Celeste leaned out the window, twin tails streaming.
"See you crazies on the flip side," she called.
The truck rolled forward, tires kicking up powdered sugar and graveyard dirt.
Halfway across the courtyard, reality rippled (just a little).
The Chevy blinked out of existence with a soft pop of displaced air and the faint smell of cedar smoke.
They were gone.
The courtyard felt bigger. Quieter.
But not empty.
Thorne's arm slid around my waist.
"They'll be back," he said.
I leaned into him, watching the spot where the truck had vanished.
"Yeah," I said. "They always come back."
Somewhere far away, an engine roared, a skateboard clattered across clouds, and four voices laughed into the wind.
The Rams were riding home.
But the road between us?
That road never really ends.