You thought your favorite character died? Well, his story wasn’t over. Not here. Not yet.

Liam Mairi lived.

He lived through the impossible.

At the Battle of Resson, when death had been inevitable—when he’d shoved Violet out of the way, prepared to take the fatal blow—it should’ve been the end. He remembered the burn in his lungs, the white-hot pain, the cold creeping in. But then... she saved him.

She was the first to turn—truly turn—to the power of the earth itself, and she used it to save him. Her fingers burning with raw magic as she touched his chest, pushed the death from his lungs and poured everything she was into him. She made the sacrifice. She defied everything. To save him. She saved his dragon too, Deigh, snarling and broken beside him. And then she vanished—like smoke into the wind. Disappeared so the ones she loved wouldn’t have to witness what she’d become.

It wasn’t fair. But it was her. Always protecting others. Always putting herself last.

He carried that moment like a brand, like fire beneath his ribs, for almost a year.

When the war ended—when they finally found the cure—he didn't hesitate. Xaden was saved first. Then the others. But when it came to her, Liam didn’t wait for permission. He searched until his hands bled, until his voice was gone from screaming her name through forests and ruins.

And when he found her—half herself, trembling and exhausted from holding the venom at bay for too long—he didn’t ask.

He gave her the cure.

With his own hands. With a whispered promise that she wasn’t going to carry this alone. Not anymore. Not after what she’d done for him.

She collapsed into his arms after the power faded. And gods, the way she sobbed, broken and free all at once, as he held her—he knew. Knew she’d done it for him. That she’d turned for him.

And now?

Now, with the world piecing itself back together, with peace finally settling over the kingdoms and the Venin no more, Liam had only one thing left to do.

Claim the woman who had always been his.

He dragged her—grinning, protesting, stubborn and stunning—back to the ruins of his childhood home, high in the mountains, where only the wind and the gods could hear them.

No formal ceremony. No traditions. Just the two of them. And a bond forged in death, battle, blood—and love.

She stood before him in leathers, veil barely hanging on, cheeks flushed from the climb. And Liam could barely breathe. He remembered how she looked at him during their first year—teasing and fierce. How she told him about her favorite books, about the way she hated early mornings and loved cold rain. How she trained with him. Bled with him. Saved him.

He held her hand now, roughened and scarred, and had to fight back tears.

“You look like a warrior goddess,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across her knuckles, “and I am so fucking lucky you’re mine.”

He bent his head closer. Their foreheads touched. Her breath was soft against his lips.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, voice rough with all the emotion he couldn’t fit into words. “To be mine officially?”

And when she smiled—gods, when she smiled like that—he already knew the answer.