I take it, letting him pull me up. We stand facing each other in the soft morning light, two scarred, broken, entirely mortal people who have survived the end of the world.
"Let's go show them the new world," he says, a fierce, devastating smile touching his lips.
"Let's go," I agree.
One year later.
The Blackthorn Academy is unrecognizable.
The physical scars of the war have been integrated into the architecture rather than erased. The massive, scorched monolith of the surface tether still stands in the center of the courtyard, but it is no longer just a magical conduit. It is a monument. The cracked stone of the Administration Wing has been reinforced with sleek, human-engineered steel and glass, creating a striking synthesis of ancient wolf tradition and modern human technology.
T
