Mira knelt beside the book, the pen cracked in two, her fingers trembling. The air was still, too quiet. Elias was gone—swallowed by the magic he once tried to control.
But so was Alaric.
The blue glow had faded.
The book's final page was blank.
"No," she whispered, voice cracking. "You can't… you promised me."
Her tears dropped onto the page, one by one.
"You said every lifetime…"
The book gave one last shimmer.
Then—a heartbeat.
Not hers.
A second pulse, echoing beside her own.
The book fluttered open again on its own, pages glowing gold this time—not the cold blue of ancient magic, but something warmer. Newer. Alive.
And then it happened.
A light poured out—brighter than anything before. It wrapped around her, spinning with words, laughter, time itself. She stumbled back as the book rose, floating, glowing—and then—
He stepped out.
Not through a dream.
Not through ink.
He stepped out of the book.
Alaric.
Whole. Human. His eyes wide, breath caught, like he too had just been born again.
He looked at his hands—then at her.
"Mira?" he said, as if scared this was a dream.
She ran forward, heart thudding wildly, and touched his face.
Warm.
Real.
Alive.
"I'm here," she breathed.
And suddenly they were in each other's arms, the world forgotten, centuries falling away. His heartbeat matched hers, like it had always been meant to.
"What happened?" she asked softly against his chest.
Alaric smiled, tears in his eyes. "The ink was never just magic. It was your love. You brought me back, Mira. You wrote me home."
She laughed and cried and held him like she'd never let go again.
And the book closed quietly on the ground behind them, its cover glowing with golden light, as if it too was finally at peace.