Aakifahlynn stood upon the podium, the silvered glow of the moon washing over her skin as she drew in the cool breath of almost dawn. The night hummed with fading magic, and for the first time in more lifetimes than she could count, her lungs filled without pain or urgency. She breathed as one newly freed—and the world, hushed and reverent, seemed to breathe with her.

It was over. Truly over. Jairus was dead. So was Taisiya. The table that had once bound them all in shadows and schemes now stood empty of players.

And now… what remained for her?

If her countless past lives had taught her anything, it...