Years had passed.
The mansion no longer smelled like blood and fire. Instead, it smelled like lavender and ink. Laughter echoed through halls that once held only silence. Shadows still lived there—but they no longer ruled.
Lilith knelt in the garden, dirt smudging her fingers as she pressed seeds into warm earth. The roses were blooming again, bright and defiant. She remembered planting the first one the day she threw her dagger into the river.
Cassian watched her from the porch, a book half-forgotten in his lap. His hair was longer now, streaked with silver. The sharp edge in his voice had dulled—but not disappeared. He would always carry the past in him. So would she.
Their love was not soft. It never had been.
But it was strong.
Built on the ruins of hate. Forged in scars and sacrifice. And nurtured, quietly, every day.
Inside, a child’s voice called. A little girl with Lilith’s eyes and Cassian’s smirk.
He stood, brushing off his coat. “She wants you again.”
Lilith rose, brushing soil from her dress. “Of course she does. She’s trouble.”
“She’s us,” Cassian said, reaching for her hand.
She smiled. “Then gods help the world.”
They walked inside together—two enemies turned lovers, turned parents, turned peace. Not perfect. Not healed. But whole.
And in the garden behind them, the roses bloomed wildly.
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