They returned to Blackthorn before sunset. The path wound gently downhill, the mist parting before the horses as if the forest itself were letting them go.
No one spoke for a while. The air was calm, cleaner somehow, lighter as though something heavy had finally lifted.
When the keep came into view, Kim exhaled. "Feels different already," he said. "The air doesn't sting anymore."
Shannon nodded. "The wards have settled. Whatever shadow lingered here—it's gone."
Behind them, Lord Savannah rode upright in the saddle, no longer leaning on the pommel for strength. His face had color again. He looked older, yes, but also… unburdened.
"Your cough stopped," Shannon noted quietly.
"It did," his father said, voice clear. "And for the first time in years, I can taste the air." He glanced toward Tristan. "You gave me back what healers couldn't."
Tristan shook his head. "You freed yourself, my lord. The rest of us only helped you remember how."
